Snakes and ladders
by StillHaddicted
Summary: House found himself stuck with someone he doesn't like, starting a game he's not ready to play. Season 5, after "Joy to the world"
1. Chapter 1

1

He should have noticed there was something different. Maybe he actually did but, as always, he was running too quick to notice. Cuddy was there, behind her desk, and that was all he saw. The phone on her ear, as usual. Her eyes glued to the screen of her computer, as usual.

And since she was busy, as usual, he felt compelled to do what he always did.

Annoy her as hell.

Grinning, House ignored nurse Jenny, who tried to stop him. He limped quickly to Cuddy's office, and swung the door open wielding the form up in the air.

"Dr. Cuddy!"

It was all he could say. Loud, way too loud, even considering he wanted to be loud. Cuddy glared at him, with such hate that his feet froze on the spot. House expected her to yell back. She seemed pissed, more than usual, by his sudden raid. Instead, he frowned, puzzled, when she gently hung up the phone, and quickly brought a finger to her lips, indicating him to shut down. Then, with the other hand, Cuddy indicated the portable crib resting on the coffee table.

Shocked by his own silence, House stepped toward the object and poked his head beyond the edge, snorting in silence when he saw Rachel peacefully sleeping. Before he knew it, Cuddy came up at his side. He looked at her and rolled his eyes, catching her broad enchanted smile as she watched her daughter wrapped in the pink blanket.

"Why is the tadpole here?" He asked then stepping away from the crib, as if he wasn't interested in knowing for real.

"Tadpole?" She repeated jokingly, walking away and keeping her voice the lowest she could. "You're running out of nicknames?"

House shrugged, Cuddy frowned as she saw how quickly he put the larger distance he could between himself and the sleeping child. She chuckled, however a light sensation of pain ran through her body, sensing how unease he seemed to be with Rachel around. But she had given him a sarcastic bait, and his answer didn't wait to come.

"I still have some more letters till the end of the alphabet," House said absently. "Did you fire the babysitter?"

"No, she's got the flu and she's taking some days-"

"Liar," he hissed, smirking at Cuddy's glare. "More likely she sneezed once, and you're keeping her away from Toto as if she was the Wicked Witch of the East."

"Why are you here?"

Cuddy huffed then. He had been there for 3 minutes and she was stressed already.

"I need your autograph on this-"

He started to explain, with no hesitation. All he wanted, was to get what he went there for. However, the sleeping kid in the crib was like a ticking bomb to him, and he wanted to leave the room as soon as he could. No mocking, no jerking around and no more jokes. Just get the signature on his form, nothing more… As soon as he handed the paper to Cuddy, the phone on her desk rang. It was nothing more than the usual ring, but in the silence of the room it sounded like and explosion. Cuddy jumped back to her desk, picking up and keeping her nervous gaze on Rachel, who luckily didn't even wince.

"Cuddy," she said keeping her voice under control, then she checked the watch and huffed. "Ok, give me 5 minutes."

When she hung up the phone, House knew what would have come out of her mouth. It was obvious by the way she looked at the crib, exhaled loud and shook her head, closing her eyes before landing them on him.

"No," he stated firmly, holding the form as a shield. "Sign this and I'll go-"

"Ten minutes," she said, her voice half-begging and half-authoritarian, quickly walking toward the door. "You don't have to do anything. Just stay here until I'm back."

"No way," House said again stepping toward the door, engaging her in a race to get there first. "You don't want me to stay here with the Thing-"

"You're right," Cuddy confessed, leaving him baffled. "But I need you to. And there's something else you should know."

Sensing the graveness in her voice, House found himself gulping nervously. Tickled by her serious face, the cells of his brain provided him with a waterfall of possible things she could have been about to say… Cuddy took plain advantage of his thinking numbness. Shamelessly enjoying his puzzled and worried face, she bolted to the door, running out before he could even realize it.

Cuddy seemed to vanish in the blink of an eye, but then came back for one second to smirk at him.

"You should know I'm faster than you."

That said, she disappeared making him feel like Wile E. Coyote, left standing in the middle of the desert, watching Road Runner running away in a cloud of dust for the hundredth time.


	2. Chapter 2

_All right, here we are. Cuddy played it well and left House with Rachel…so many things can go wrong with that!_

* * *

><p>2<p>

As his brain finally elaborated the reality, that Cuddy had jerked him around and trapped him with her daughter, fear took control of him. Slowly he turned toward the crib, still keeping himself away from it, scared the simple proximity could bother the sleeping child. In all honesty, being left there didn't bother him, as long as she kept sleeping. He could handle that…what pissed him off for real, was the way he had let Cuddy trap him.

Sighing defeated, House stepped toward the desk and left there the form, then huffed and sat on one of the chair. He had been in that office many times, with and without Cuddy, but he still had to adjust to the new accommodation. The furniture was good, stylish, strong and graceful at the same time, as she was. However, he missed the old office. Looking around the room, too silent according to him, he snorted trying to picture the old couch, and smirked bitterly when his gaze completed the tour landing on the desk. The only thing that made him feel at ease, no matter what…

He blinked a couple of times, freeing his eyes from the spell of the desk, then checked his watch, annoyed. Only two minutes since Cuddy had left, yet it seemed more. Not that he had something important to do, other than avoid work as usual, but he didn't like the path things had taken. Twirling the cane in his fingers he huffed again, trying to ignore the sleeping human behind him. No matter what, he knew she was there and he couldn't ignore any longer. Carefully, House turned around to check the door. Nobody was on sight and he slowly stood up, then limped toward the crib, once again poking his head.

Rachel was lying on her back, the small face almost entirely hidden by the blanket and the cap on her head, the mouth slightly open… He took the last step and approached the crib watching her red cheeks, the sign of a healthy child. He had to admit it, she looked pretty despite not being Cuddy's daughter, no matter how she put that. The only time he had really looked at her, in his office, she had seem interested in his face, but the truth was different.

"I hate you," he stated in a low voice looking at the sleeping child. "Do you know that?"

No, of course she didn't, and maybe "hate" was a big word. Still… Yes, he did somehow, because she was a tree trunk lying on his rails-

_Too bad your rails were going nowhere._

That was another part of the story, something he didn't really want to think about. Truth was, there was nothing going on until Cuddy had told him she was about to adopt a baby. But after that, he had felt the urge to deal with something he would have otherwise abandoned in a corner, saying himself there was no need to rush things-

All of sudden, Rachel started to fuss. Her tiny hands opened and closed slowly a couple of times, and with a shiver of terror House saw her small mouth twine in a disappointed grimace. He found himself holding his breath, his body stiffening on the edge of the crib, hoping if he had been silent maybe she wouldn't have- Clearly it wasn't his lucky day, he should have known better. Before he could mutter something against Cuddy, the baby opened her mouth and let her voice cry out. At the beginning, it was just a tentative sob and sniffing, as if she was still deciding if she wanted to cry, but then she opened her eyes, suddenly awake, and immediately landed them on him. Motionless, House fought her gaze without breathing. To an external viewer, they would have looked like cowboys facing each other before the final duel, but then Rachel played the lamest card ever, the only one he couldn't afford.

She started to cry, and this time it was for real.

"Great!" House growled, not knowing how he managed not to say something worst.

Hearing his voice, Rachel suddenly stopped. Her eyes grew wide open again and, by the way she looked at him, House thought she had just jerked him around. Because she looked at him as if she had just then become aware of his presence. She stared at him for second, but in the end she seemed to finally decide him being there was worth a cry, and started again.

"Oh, great!" He exclaimed again, then looked behind him outside the office, hoping a merciful nurse could hear and come to rescue him. Yet again, he wasn't that lucky and looked back down at Rachel. "Great!"

Finally, he realized he had no other option. Huffing he hooked the cane to the crib and carefully dived his hands inside, picking up Rachel. He felt stupid, all of sudden; he was a doctor, he knew how to handle a kid, but holding Cuddy's one was simply unnatural. And feeling odd with Rachel in his hands, he felt even more idiot. Clumsily, House adjusted the kid in his hands and started to bounce her slightly, hoping it was enough to shut her mouth down. Then, as he moved her in his hands, a terrifying epiphany hit him. He held Rachel under her armpits, bringing her small face on the same level of his eyes, glaring menacingly at her.

"You better not telling me you need to be changed," House warned her. He sounded deadly serious, but the kid looked at him puzzled with that dumb expression only kids can have. "No way I'm gonna do that."

Barely aware of the fact her crying had become lower and less annoying, again House looked behind him at the closed blinds of Cuddy's office doors, this time not hoping for help but to make sure there were no spectators for what he was about to do. Feeling safe enough, he held Rachel and gently flipped her around, smelling her diaper, then sighed relieved and turned her back. The first good news of the day, she didn't need to be changed.

"Then what?" He asked her, and he could swear her eyes grew bigger. "I assume you're hungry… Poop, cry, pee, eat and sleep, that's all you do after all."

Slightly distraught by the fact he was talking to her, House held Rachel close to his chest darting Cuddy's office, searching for the bag. There had to be one, moms always had those huge Mary Poppins's bags to carry everything but the kitchen sink. No doubts, being the control freak she was, Cuddy had one filled with almost everything a child could need. With a moan of victory escaping his mouth, House spotted a big pink bag, then rolled his eyes and headed to the bathroom.

"Mommy is going to pay for this," House announced to Rachel as he rummaged into the bag, balancing the child with the right hand. "Unless I let you fall on the floor…I'm going to pay for that then."

Eventually, he found the feeding bottle silently thanking Cuddy for being so predictable and caring, then he went back the office still bouncing Rachel in his arm and carefully sat down on the couch. He offered Rachel the bottle, but apparently he had underestimate her hunger. She was indeed, but not enough to accept food from a stranger, because she kept moving her head away from the bottle every time he approached it to her.

"Great!" He muttered again, rolling his eyes and pulling back the bottle, lulling the kid.

If he couldn't feed her, at least he wanted her to stop crying.

He kept bouncing her, annoyed, thinking of at least twenty different ways to have Cuddy pay him back for that. In the meantime, he put the feeding bottle on the coffee table to take the Vicodin bottle out of the pocket of his jeans. He was about to flip the cap open but stopped, looking at the right hand keeping Rachel on him, then gave up on the pills for the moment and settled his priorities. He had to stop Rachel fussing, feed her to prevent more fussing and put her back on the crib. He had already been proved that wasn't his lucky day, but maybe he could manage to get it all covered before Cuddy's return, and don't let her know he had done more than just watching her sleep and keep his mouth shut.

Huffing, House shook the orange bottle saying a mental "see you later" to the white pills, then stretched his hand to the coffee table to switch the pills with the bottle. Only when he went back to Rachel, he realized she wasn't crying anymore. Which was supposed to be good news…but the way she was looking at him was a completely different thing. She was smiling, first of all. And if that hadn't been creepy enough, her small eyes were focused on his face, amazed, with that sincere expression of genuine daze human beings usually loose around the age of 12. Appalled too, House felt his jaw slowly fall to the ground, but soon recovered and closed his mouth. That little gaze could do no harm to him, still he didn't feel comfortable with Rachel staring at him that way, but he also knew that was his chance. Carefully, he approached the bottle to her mouth again. She was still looking at him with that amused smile and didn't see the bottle coming, and when it touched her lips again she pulled back wining.

"Oh c'mon!" House huffed, moving the bottle in small circles in the air. "Trust issues, just like your mom," he muttered then.

Apparently, something in the way he had spoken hit the right spot, Rachel giggled and stretched her short arm toward him. Grinning, House again offered her the feeding bottle but she decisively pushed it away, still stretching her arm toward him. On the verge of a nervous breakdown, House fought back a scream. He glanced back at the door hoping, wishing to see Cuddy storm in and rip Rachel away from him screaming like a lioness, but he was alone. He was still thinking about the best strategy when he froze, feeling Rachel's tiny and soft hand on his face, patting his cheek and giggling. Shocked, it took him a little to understand she was touching him, and then a little more to realize she enjoyed the tickling sensation of his beard on her skin. Trained to try different angles, his mind quickly provided him with the thought he had to get the more he could out of that.

The first attempt wasn't really good. He felt the corner of his mouth stiffen, but the second try was better and he managed to smile. House wasn't sure it could work, but Rachel giggled again and speeded up the movements of her hand. Holding the smile on his face, feeling like the Joker, House nodded a couple of times to the kid, trying again with the feeding bottle. Either she was too focused on her new game to notice or the patting was tiring her, because this time she opened her mouth and started to feed herself, adding more relief on House's shoulders when she brought her hands to the bottle wrapping them around it as she kept sucking.

_Thank God!_ House thought finally breathing out his frustration and relaxing on the couch, nervousness leaving his body at every bit of food she swallowed in silence.

"Do you always give mommy such a hard time," he questioned absently looking at the kid, eating with extreme attention. "Or this little show of yours is just for me?" Of course, Rachel didn't answer. Her mouth was too busy and he couldn't really expect a proper answer after all. Still he thought he saw her trying to smile. "Stop looking at me that way kid, I'm too old for you. Besides, I'm sure you smile the same way to whoever feed you."

One way or the other, House became aware of the fact he was talking to someone who couldn't understand him. Above all, someone he had planned not to deal with unless… Well, unless he was forced to, and that was exactly the case! Huffing and holding the feeding bottle, he looked around the room looking for a watch to check, since the one around his wrist and the phone were both out of reach. And even if he didn't see anything, he knew for sure more than ten minutes had already gone by.

"Ten minutes," he muttered, mocking Cuddy's voice. "You don't have to do anything. Do anything my ass!" He closed his eyes and froze for the word he had just said, but when he checked on Rachel, he doubted she could have ever been able to repeat it. Then he frowned, realizing she had already eaten quite a lot. "Does the evil witch feed you enough?"

But as soon as he had asked, Rachel's hands abandoned the bottle and he felt her pushing it away from her, fussing. Smirking at her mouth circled with food, House rested the bottle on the table and looked down at the kid.

"Done?" They stared at each other, puzzled. It was hard to tell who the dumbest one was, then she gave him a happy smile. "You know kiddo, you should stay like this for the rest of your life," he then muttered absently.

He was about to stand up and put her back on the crib, when he realized her face needed to be cleaned. Huffing disconsolate, he looked around for something useful but found nothing, other than his and Rachel's clothes. He might not have been very attentive to his look, but he wasn't ready to use his jacket as a baby barf collector. So he quickly checked the door, then took the small cap from Rachel's head, used it to clean her mouth and furtively put it back.

"Shush," he whispered as Rachel moved in his arms. "Don't tell mommy and I'll give you a lollipop…when you'll grow teeth."

Feeling like a soldier victoriously coming home after a battle, House sighed and was about to stand up to, when the baby fussed again and he froze hearing the familiar sounds of the upcoming cry rising from her. Scared, he looked down only to find her small face, then he saw her gulp and squirm in his hands.

"Ok, ok, I take it. Full service," he grunted, then moved her until she was resting with her chin on his left shoulder, he brought one hand to her back and the other to her head and bounced her slightly up and down. "Better out than in-"

His words were swallowed by a sudden and loud burp, impressive given the fact it came from such a small creature. Appalled, House froze and pulled the kid away from him, holding her up to his face with a shocked expression. And he couldn't hold back a satisfied grin, when Rachel smiled back at him.

"Ga!" She giggled moving in his hands, and he nodded amused.

"Damn straight kid, whatever ga means," he asserted. "That was impressive. I bet you didn't get that from mommy," he muttered then, frowning when she became fussy again.

_Women!_ He thought. _They really can't enjoy fun long enough. _Huffing, he put Rachel down on his lap and finally was able to check at his watch, shocked to find out more than half an hour had gone by. _And we're both still alive! _Sighing, he absently bounced Rachel on his good leg, barely noticing the way she curled up in his arms, resting her head on his chest. When he did, it was too late, because as he looked down at her she was already sleeping again.

"Great!" He muttered again to Cuddy's empty office

Then sighed defeated and adjusted Rachel in his arms, trying to understand how he had found himself trapped by two "Cuddies", twice in less than one hour.


	3. Chapter 3

3

"Hey!"

The young doctor yelled when someone pushed her out of the elevator, ready to make herself heard. She immediately turned back to express her disappointment for such a rude gesture, but she froze when she found out who had just hit her.

"Oh, Dr. Cuddy-"

"Sorry," the dean of medicine apologized quickly, then stepped out of the elevator running toward her office.

Ten minutes. That was what she had told House, and instead she had been withheld for almost one hour. What could have House done in one hour alone with Rachel? Why hadn't she left her daughter with someone else, or just asked Nurse Jenny to look after Rachel? Why, with all the reliable people in the hospital, she had left her child with him?

_Ok,_ she said to herself, one hand on the handle. _Maybe I'm lucky and he ran away the moment after I left, maybe… Oh my God!_

"Oh my God!" The same words she had spoken in her mind echoed in the room when she approached the crib, and found it empty. "Where is she? What-"

Cuddy stopped, she had to when a sound she wasn't expecting to hear reached her ears, and she frowned. Slowly she turned on her heels, looking for the source of the sound, freezing when she saw him. Them, actually. House was sitting on the sofa with his legs stretched on the coffee table, sleeping profoundly judging by his sonorous snoring. His head was abandoned on his right shoulder, and the left one was occupied with Rachel, clung on him like a mussel on a rock. She was immobile, deep asleep too, her tiny hands wedged around his shoulder much as his hands were holding her on his chest. And she had an impressive amount of droll dripping from her mouth, popping small bubbles at her every breath.

Cuddy froze at that sight. A part of her, a big one, the "mother one" she was still trying to get in touch with, was livid. He had woke her up, he had bothered her sleeping daughter and then he had dared to fall asleep without putting her back on the crib, just holding her in that unsafe and dangerous way. However, another part of her appreciated the fact he was still there, that he hadn't abandoned Rachel. Not even for a second, as she could tell by the empty feeding bottle on the table next to his feet, or by the blanket carefully wrapped around the kid in his arms.

And it was beautiful.

It had nothing to do with any feelings she might have had for him. House holding… No. House relaxed, at ease with a kid enough to fall asleep with her, was something that went beyond self-satisfaction and personal hopes. It was shocking and overwhelming to see him like that, and she hated herself for what she was about to do. She didn't want to ruin the picture, but she had to; mainly because she saw House's sleeping grip wasn't steady on Rachel anymore. Carefully, Cuddy stepped toward the couch with the intention to pick up Rachel, without waking her. But she had to find a way to wake up House too, and prevent him from…well, from any kind of reaction he could have had in such a situation.

Still mesmerized by the view, Cuddy managed to blink and break the spell. She stepped close to House and Rachel, gently grabbing the baby. But when she pulled her away from him, House's hands clenched around her tiny body and Cuddy realized his grip was steady and firm no matter his not so vigilant state. Cuddy muffled a low sigh in her mouth and stepped back, then decided to go for the simplest approach.

"House," she called him with a soft voice. "House," she called again, a little louder, then rolled her eyes as his snoring got louder too. Cuddy huffed frustrated and wrapped her hands around Rachel holding her firmly, just in case, before hissing his name again. "House!"

As she had imagined, House woke up all of sudden almost jumping on the couch. She kept her hands on Rachel, but could do nothing as he instinctively seized his ones and pulled the kid away from her. Appalled, Cuddy was left with her arms in the air, watching House hold Rachel and breathing fast, his eyes puzzled as his whole being was trying to find out what was going on.

"Jesus Cuddy!" He blurted, shaking his head trying to recover from the fright. "See, that's why I don't have sex with you. You would give me a heart attack the morning after!"

"Keep it down House!" She rebuked him, ignoring his statement. "You'll wake her up."

Just then, thanks to Cuddy's words, he realized the thing he was holding wasn't a pillow as he had thought. He looked at the sleeping child in his hands, and the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. Suddenly unease, he quickly handed the kid to Cuddy as if he was holding a ticking bomb, averting his eyes and babbling.

"Then you better take the scream machine back before it's too late."

"Did she cry?" Cuddy asked with a thrill of worry in her voice, as she took Rachel from House's hands.

"Well, little monsters usually do when they wake up hungry and with an ogre," he muttered, finally reaching for his Vicodin with a sigh of relief.

Cuddy rolled her eyes, then looked down at Rachel with a smile and walked toward the crib. From the couch, absently rolling a pill in between his teeth, House watched her lull the sleeping child, while pulling out of the bag a bib and gently remove a trace of droll from her mouth. Without saying a word, Cuddy put Rachel down, carefully wrapping her in the blanket.

"Thanks for taking care of her," she said then in a low voice without looking at him, and House almost chocked with the pill.

"I didn't," he stated fiercely, slowly standing up. "I just saved my own eardrums."

"And took a nap in the meantime," she teased.

"Your fault," House shot back, pointing at her with one finger. "You said ten minutes, it was almost one hour-"

He wanted to go on and complain more, he had lots to complain about. But words slowly died in his mouth, looking at how Cuddy was studying her daughter peacefully sleeping. _She's not her daughter! _House reminded himself_. It's a fraud!_ It didn't take long to realize she wasn't really interested in his whining, so he rolled his eyes and stepped toward the door.

"Just so you know, this count as an hour of clinic-"

"House,"

He froze on the door. Something in her voice told him she wasn't about to tell him he still had to do clinic duty, and when he turned to face her he saw what he feared the most. She was going to do that, she was going to say something about him staying with Rachel, instead of just let it go. Luckily, it lasted just a second, to his major relief. Cuddy just blinked and that scaring shadow disappeared from her eyes. Then she took the cane he had hooked on the crib and handled it back to him. Mute, House stretched his right arm toward her, paying attention their hands didn't touch as he took his cane from her, then left the office without saying a word.

"C'mon Rachel, be a good girl ok?"

But apparently, Rachel didn't want to, not that evening.

Since from when they've gotten home after work she had been fussing, and after her evening bath, despite she seemed hungry, Cuddy was having a hard time feeding her. And she couldn't get why. Judging by the feeding bottle House had used, she had eaten more or less the same as usual. Less, if anything. But since she couldn't imagine House sucking at her daughter's bottle, Rachel's resistance didn't really make any sense to Cuddy.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" She asked again, the usual fear that assaulted her every time the child did something different rising inside her. "You're not sick, aren't you?"

She was pretty sure Rachel wasn't sick at all, still she put the feeding bottle down and rested one hand on the kid's cheek, sighing relieved when she judged her temperature was absolutely normal. Of course it was, she never missed a chance to check on Rachel, even when she had no reasons to be worried. Alone in her kitchen with a fidgety child in her arms, Cuddy sighed. How long would have that last? Being scared by every strange attitude or unfamiliar sound…was that all what being a mother was about?

Then someone knocked loud at her door and she rolled her eyes. Apparently, there was more; and it was a tall, grumpy and annoying more.

She hadn't missed that. The sound of House's cane on her door was a sound that always gave her mixed and confused feelings, if she thought back at the reasons that had brought him there the last times. Already frustrated, Cuddy kept holding Rachel and walked to the door, hoping whatever it was House could keep it short. She could only handle one upset kid at the time.

Determined to get rid of him quickly, Cuddy swung the door open, meeting House's gaze. Taken aback by the way his blue eyes seemed grew in a panic when he saw Rachel with her.

"She doesn't bite," Cuddy said quickly, stating with her tired voice she wasn't up for any kind of argument. "What do you want House?"

"Just for you to do your job," he said back flatly, strangely keeping his voice low, then handled Cuddy a piece of paper. "Not only you forced me into baby-sitting, but you also forgot to sign this."

Holding Rachel with both hands and bouncing her in her arms, Cuddy looked at the form House was showing her, then rolled her eyes and stepped back inside keeping the door open.

"Another coffee machine for your office?" She asked annoyed.

Reluctantly House followed her inside, slightly unease. He closed the door behind him and followed her in the kitchen, where she was putting Rachel on her high chair.

"Blame Taub," he mumbled absently. "That guy is too clumsy. I can't believe he used to fix noses and boobs. I would like to meet some of the women he operated, they should look like Picasso's-"

"Here," Cuddy cut him off after have scribbling her signature on the form. "Please try to make this one last longer than two months, ok?"

House grinned and took the form, placing it in the back pocket of his jeans, then headed to the door.

"Ga!"

Before House could take the first step, or Cuddy could complain for his rudeness, since he was apparently leaving without saying a word, from her high chair Rachel joined the conversation. Her giggling caused Cuddy to turn toward her quickly, with a proud and large smile on her face, but House froze right where he was. Ga…hadn't she "said" something like that in the morning too? House's eyes widened, he was invaded by a sudden fear, trying to remember if he had used some bad words…ok, which bad words he had used while being alone with Rachel. He had sure said at least once, but he couldn't remember which, and all he knew was that he had better not be there when Cuddy would have recognized something she wouldn't have accepted in her daughter's confused babbling.

"Ga!" The kid said again, waving her tiny hands toward the feeling bottle. "Ga, ga."

"Of course Rachel," Cuddy said hurrying to reach the bottle and her daughter. "You're hungry now? That's it?"

Breathing again, but still not feeling safe, House tentatively turned back watching Cuddy approaching the bottle to Rachel's mouth, his lips freezing as his brain ordered him not to smile when the little girl seemed to wave her hand to him. But everything quickly faded. Like a tornado, Cuddy crashed on the girl and picked her up from the chair, taking advantage of her daughter's open mouth to feed her.

"Wow!" He exclaimed. "You're always this gentle in feeding her?" He then asked, mockingly.

"Only when she acts like you," She said back, quickly glancing at him who rolled his eyes. "You mean you did a better job today?"

House's evil grin disintegrated on his lips. He didn't know what he was supposed to answer and, even if he was to, he was glad Cuddy was keeping her eyes on Rachel because he was pretty sure his face was a mess.

"We both survived," he stated then coldly, heading to the door. "Can't assure next time we will be this lucky."

Before she could say anything, warning him because of the way he was talking about her daughter or mocking him for his shameless deflection, House was out of the room, and soon out of her door too. A little upset, Cuddy huffed but kept taking care of Rachel until she made clear she had enough. Smiling for the drips of food circling her mouth, Cuddy took the bib and cleaned her, finally staring at her. But the smile she was giving to her daughter trembled when she recorded the way the kid was looking around the room, as if she was looking for something.

"Ga?"

Cuddy frowned, her daughter's muffling confusing her a little, but then she shrugged and looked at the now empty bottle, showing it to her.

"This?" She asked, just partially aware of how stupid that was.

"Ga," Rachel said again, shaking her head no.

"Then," Cuddy huffed resting the bottle on the counter and heading to the nursery. "I guess we're done with ga."

As she walked down the hallway, Cuddy held Rachel on her chest, her tiny head poking from above her shoulder. In that position, the child kept looking at main door with sleepy eyes, whispering so low that Cuddy failed to hear her.

"Ga…"


	4. Chapter 4

_Ready for more?_

4

A hot bath, a beer, a giant burger and a second beer, waiting for poker guys to come over. Yes, sometimes it really took nothing to be happy, he thought. He grinned as he walked across the underground parking of the hospital, at the idea of the money he could have taken out of Wilson's pockets that night.

_You know what House?_ He said to himself as he searched his bike, adjusting the bag pack on his shoulder. _You saved another life today, you can use yourself a beer before the bath too_

He was about to jump on his bike, wondering if he had enough beer to accomplish the task, when a vaguely familiar sound came from his left, amplified by the wide and empty space of the desert parking. House frowned at that sound, something in his brain registered it as familiar, but the wisest part of his mind ordered him to ignore it.

"I know Rachel. We'll be home soon, ok?"

Of course, the second sound coming from the same direction wasn't unexpected. He doubted an 8 months old kid could hang around a parking on her own...especially when the parking was the one of the hospital the mother of the kid was supposed to administrate.

_None of your business, _House warned himself as he sat on the bike. _Her kid, her problem._

Easy to say. It didn't take much to exclude the annoying wining of the child, nor the useless caring reassurance of her mother. It became much more difficult when the soft sobbing became a proper and bossy cry, which ended up shutting down Cuddy. House tried to convince himself it seemed louder and worse than what it really was, that the echo of the parking was turning Rachel's cry in an annoying horn; but after a bunch of seconds, Cuddy's lack of response and attempts to ease her child discomfort twitched something inside his stomach.

_Don't you dare! Don't even think about that- No!_ His voice yelled to him as he jumped off the bike. _What happened to the bath-beer-burger-beer combo?_

_She's melting my ears, _House muttered to himself, slowly limping toward the blowing siren. _And it was beer-bath-beer-burger-beer._

Every step he took, was one step closer to a noisy child and her defeated mother. He spotted Cuddy at her parking space and stopped for a moment, studying the situation. She was standing near a car that didn't seem hers, the carrycot with Rachel placed on the hood of the vehicle, her briefcase hooked on her elbow and her purse balanced on her left hand. The right hand was diving in her the purse, while with her legs she was holding the brown shopper full of food on the ground, trapping it against the door of the car. She gave up on the treasure hunt of the keys for a moment, she looked over at Rachel's crib huffing a lock of hair away from her face, then stepped closer wondering way she was crying so much all of sudden. Cuddy smiled at her daughter and tried to stretch her hand to caress her face, and when she did both the purse and the briefcase fell on the ground. Biting at her bottom lip, Cuddy fought back something not appropriate for a kid's ears and stoically tried to soothe her daughter, no matter what. To stop the crying, was indeed her priority.

"You better shut down Slimer, or I'll stick her in the "containment unit"."

"Great!" Cuddy exclaimed becoming aware of House's presence behind her, but kept her smile to Rachel, who stopped fussing for a second hearing her mom's voice. "House, whatever joke you've prepared can you just say it and leave me alone?"

Trained with years of banters, House didn't even wince at her nasty remark but stepped toward her, nodding at the items all over on the ground.

"You're applying for a job in a circus?" He asked, and she shoot him with a questioning glare as she picked up Rachel. "Four items, two hands. Either you're training as juggler, or you have more hidden qualities than what I thought."

"It's been a bad day House. And if she doesn't calm down, the evening will be even worse," Cuddy said flatly and menacingly, bouncing Rachel in her hands and keeping her face safely on her chest to muffle her cry. "Can you get to the point of the mocking?"

"What happened to your car?" House asked instead, ignoring her words and looking down at the vehicle.

"I had to call the mechanic, something wrong with the engine," Cuddy babbled, a little unease for his...what was that? Interest? "They gave me a spare car-"

"Spare, but not fair," he muttered studying the car, not exactly the kind of one someone like Cuddy could have bought.

Cuddy watched him walk around the car, looking inside, even bending down to get a better view. Then he straightened up all of sudden, shaking his head and looking at her.

"You're an idiot," he said then, knowingly, and Cuddy rolled her eyes.

"I'm disappointed House," she said back without missing a bit, roaming Rachel's back with one hand, glad she had at least stopped crying. "You can do better than that to insult me."

"But I'm not insulting you, I'm stating the obvious," he explained walking around the car to approach her. His eyes went to Rachel and back in a second, then he stared at Cuddy with a smirk. "How were you planning on drive and hold the ranting thing at the same time, with no baby's chair?"

Her mouth opened, but she didn't speak. First, she had to recover from the shock of House knowing such a word as baby's chair; and after that, there was nothing she could have said. Because he was right and…and he was also rummaging into her purse! She had barely noticed him using his cane to hook her purse and bring it up to his hand, but she did see him dive his hand inside, shaking it until he came up with the keys of the car.

"Jimmy Smith's garage...really?" He mocked her reading the key chain. "Seriously Cuddy-"

Already annoyed by his teaching voice, Cuddy quickly stole the keys from his hand and used them to open the door of the car. House stepped back without saying a word, leaning on the trunk of the car and folding his arms. Silent, he watched as she tried to stuff her things inside the car one at the time. Of course, first she had to put Rachel back in the crib; but as soon as she tried to pull the child away from her, Rachel started to fuss again. Without saying a word, House noticed how her face melted in sadness and a small hint of gratification, and his hands wedged around his own arms when he saw her struggle to decide whether she had to ease Rachel's crying first, or if it was more important to take her home as soon as she could.

"House, what-"

She didn't have the chance to add anything. House stepped toward her huffing frustrated, not so gently picked the purse from the ground, opened the back door of the car and threw the purse on the seat, soon followed by the briefcase.

"Ga!" Rachel giggled stirring in Cuddy's arms, waving her tiny hands.

"What?" House shot back at the kid taking the food bag too, a shiver running down Cuddy's spine when she thought he was about to toss it as the rest. "You want the same treatment?"

Instinctively, Cuddy took a step away from him, pulling Rachel out of his reach, House rolled his eyes and stuffed the bag in between the seats. Once he was done he stepped toward her, not sure how he was supposed to read the puzzled look on her face. Hesitant, he looked around and suddenly realized the only thing left to stuff inside the car were Cuddy and the kid...and he didn't know what he should have feared the most; Cuddy's terrified look, or Rachel's enthusiastic face.

"I'll try to make this easier Cuddy," he stated after a while, talking slow and careful as a negotiator handing and hostage situation. "This is not a favour, trust me. This is weird for me as much as it is for you, so here's the deal. I'll lend you a couple of hands to prevent the kid to become a human bullet and crash the windshield, and I'll let you offer me dinner," he paused, locking his eyes with her and trying not to show he was holding his breath. "You're on?" He had to breathe, more shocked by what he had proposed than altered by Cuddy's astonished face, quite understandable given the circumstances. "I know you're feminine proud is itching, this is not a help offer. We can call it a business trade, if this can make you feel better."

It didn't, not really. Despite his attempt to be nice and don't show it, knowing it would have put both unease, Cuddy couldn't help but dissect and analyse House's offer. Was he…being nice? Why had he checked the car, how could had he noticed the lack of the baby's chair, and thought about the problem it might have caused when she hadn't thought about that at all? _Because I have other things to think about, I always do, s_he thought. It was true, however she didn't feel justified for the lack of organization.

She quickly browsed her options, but the outcome was always the same: she did need help to make it home, and like it or not, House was up for the job. Sensing Rachel calming down in her arms, Cuddy realized there was a lot of paperwork she was supposed to do in the briefcase House had gently packed, and she finally came to a truce with herself. House's gesture was weird, but perhaps it seemed so just because it came from him. Had she ran into Wilson, she would have probably spent time with him, chatting and taking her time to pack the car before laughing at herself for being baby's chair-less.

"Ok," she said quickly, before she could change her mind, surprising both of them. "But you don't get to pick the menu."

House rolled his eyes, but also took a long sigh of relief; at least he had sort out an embarrassing situation, even though in that moment he wasn't able to understand he had probably jumped in a more awkward one. Slowly regaining control, partially thank to Cuddy's last statement reminding them, despite the appearances, there was nothing nice in what they were doing, House waited for her to put Rachel back on the crib, and stepped back when Cuddy opened the back door to adjust the carrycot on the seats. In the meantime, House walked around her and went to the driver seat, his hand freezing when he felt Cuddy questioning glare on the back of his neck. Gulping, he turned toward her, staring at her for a second, then rolled his eyes.

"Right," he granted. "Your car, you drive."

He raised his hands and stepped away from the car, finally taking his place on the back seat with Rachel's crib. Victorious, Cuddy smiled to herself and sat behind the steering wheel adjusting to the unfamiliar car, and when she touched the rear view mirror, her eyes caught House. He was sitting with his left hand on his leg, and the right arm firmly around Rachel's crib to keep it steady. It didn't surprise her; if anything, it filled her heart with relief. But he was also leaning on the carrycot more than the necessary, and she didn't fail to notice his right hand half sunk inside the crib. Shamelessly intrigued, Cuddy kept moving the small window in all possible ways until she caught the reflection of House's fingers waving in front of Rachel's face, smiling at her daughter giggling and mumbling something.

She was so focused on trying to decipher Rachel's sounds, that when House's eyes ruthlessly caught hers, somehow he managed to make her feel guilty for having caught him off guard. Embarrassed, Cuddy coughed absently and turned on the engine, realizing she was not the one who was supposed to be ashamed of her behave just when she was hit the streets to her place.

* * *

><p>"Ga!"<p>

_Ok, calm down. Breathe._

"_Ga!"_

_She drove you here. You carried some of her stuff inside. You took a Vicodin-_

"Gaaaaaaa."

_You tried to leave, but she said she had to set her stuff and dumped the kid on you. Then you tried to leave again, but she said she had to change and she asked you to watch the droll factory. Then she came back and-_

"Ga! Ga!"

And how the hell he had ended up on Cuddy's couch, suspiciously staring at Rachel sitting on a playing carpet, stretching her arms to him while his boss was in the kitchen cooking something that would have hardly included meat, was the mother of all mysteries.


	5. Chapter 5

5

House tried to convince himself the girl was staring at him because he was the only moving object in the room, but he knew very well she was indeed interested in him as…well, as him. The one who had feed her the day before, the face she had admired during the drive home. The worst part was, he couldn't blame her, not just her at least. Why had he felt the need to look down at her the entire time? He had even been caught by Cuddy, he should have paid attention-

"Damn!" He muttered in between his teeth, pulling the Vicodin out of the pocket of his jeans. "You're such a wuss!"

He was mad at himself. And Cuddy had scared the hell out of him, announcing she could have a vegetable lasagne ready in an one hour, and that would have been all he would have gotten from her. She was really doing that, home-made dinner, and he was beyond shocked. Swallowing one pill, he started to roll absently the orange bottle on his left thigh, thinking what a coward he had felt when Cuddy had started to search the fridge. He had been serious in the parking, offering her his help for a free meal, but that didn't seem a smart idea anymore.

Danger, awkwardness, odd silences. The constant peril of saying or doing something wrong; the risk she could catch him off guard again, looking at the kid, who seemed to be literally in love with him. He had browsed all the scenarios, all the things that could have possibly gone wrong; and the list was too long to get to the end of it. He had tried to sort himself out; a part of him had naively thought once at her place, once finally calmed down because the kid was safe and she had regained control of her world, Cuddy would have noticed there was something out of place in her private space. Something like a tall limping and annoying man, who didn't belong to her living room. House was sure, once settled, she would have realized she had gone too far and would have found a polite way to get rid of him.

Instead, she had parked him in the living room with Rachel and she had disappeared in the kitchen. Either she made a point to herself to stay faithful to her word, or… Or what? Absently twirling the bottle in his fingers, House stopped the stream of his thoughts before they ended up in a dangerous place. He really didn't want to get into that path, not while sitting on Cuddy's couch; not with Rachel crawling to him, pulling the hem of his pants with her chubby hands. Huffing, House bent forward looking down at the little girl, who fiercely looked up at him, smiling boldly.

"Ga?" She asked, as if she wanted to make sure he was the one sitting on her mom's couch, and House rolled his eyes.

"What?" He answered in a low grunt, more to hide Cuddy he was talking with Rachel than his rudeness. Then the kid fell on the carpet with a clumsy movement, and stretched her arms up toward him, hopeful. "In your dreams, Mutley," he shoot then, realizing she wanted him to pick her up.

He tried to ignore her. Cuddy had asked him to keep an eye on her, not to entertain her, and he went back surfing the TV channels. But despite not having Cuddy's same blood, Rachel was stubborn enough to grab his pants and pull again, harder. House growled softly, and without averting his eyes from the screen, he seized his cane and hooked one of Rachel's toy, dropping it in front of her. Focused on the show, House swallowed a Vicodin then glanced down at Rachel. The bait he had given her was working, the kid was trying to unscrew the head of her teddy bear and seemed to have lost interest in him. He sighed relieved, and again his fingers made the orange bottle dance, shaking the white pills as his mind provided him with a plan to get out of there.

_She's cooking, ok. Might as well enjoy the meal while I'm here. But then, I'll leave. Even better, I'll force her to kick me out. It will be easier for everybody. I know how to piss her off, and she knows how to get rid of me. I don't need to push, just a joke about the food and I'll be out of the door in the blink of an eye-_

"Taka!"

He had become sadly accustomed to Rachel's babbling; not that she had interesting things to say, but he had come familiar with "Ga". However, "taka" was something he didn't know how to take. Huffing as he felt Rachel pulling his jeans again, House rolled his eyes and bent on the kid almost wrapped around his foot, looking up with that persistent smile of innocence.

"Ga!" She screamed in pure delight, when she realized she had gotten his attention.

"Yes, apparently that's me," he muttered resigned, then frowned when Rachel pointed straight up at him, giggling.

"Taka!" She muttered, almost laughing. "Ga, taka!"

_What the fuck is this?_ House asked himself as he felt his eyes widen for the shock. _Seriously, what did I do to have this babbling monkey after me like this?_

He was about to ask Rachel what did she mean with taka, it wasn't just a random rant given the fact she kept saying it waving her right hand toward him, when he realized two things. Asking an 8 months kid what she was saying would have been useless, other than ridiculous, and he had the feeling he knew what taka was. Doubtful, House pumped the volume of the TV and waited to make sure Cuddy kept cooking, then shook the bottle of Vicodin causing the pills to produce a sound he would have hardly considered funny. Which made Rachel giggle hysterically.

"Ha ha ha, taka!" Rachel kept saying, bouncing on her small butt clapping her tiny hands. "Ga taka!"

"Oh great!" House grunted, quickly showing the bottle in his pocket, freezing in fear when Rachel's small face contorted in a grimace of sadness, clear prelude to a noisy cry. "Oh, c'mon kid! I thought you liked me, if you start crying your mommy will…Jesus!"

As he saw Rachel's face turning red, her mouth open to let the first cries get out, House panicked. Instinctively, he bent down and picked up the kid, resting her on his left leg and bouncing her a couple of time.

"Don't you dare cry, ok?" He said menacingly, a nervous smile on his face to hide his fear.

"Taka," Rachel mumbled, sniffing and waving her hand toward his pocket.

"This is not a game for you kid. For God's sake, you have a whole jungle of puppets here, why can't you play with one of-"

"Ga!"

He was interrupted abruptly, by Rachel's words and by her hands patting on his cheeks, that giggling smile of her getting on his nerves. He tried not to think she had jerked him around, that she had faked the whole taka drama to have him pick her up. She might had been a smart girl, but that went beyond limits. And it helped his self-esteem, since he didn't like the idea of being played around by a kid, not even Cuddy's one. Once it was clear the crisis had been prevented, House sighed and held Rachel ready to put her back on the floor. But as soon as he tried to move, the kid little arms found his neck and seized around it, her voice immediately wining the name she had come up with for him.

"You can't be serious," he huffed looking down at the kid, who once again gave him a smile he could only take as a victory one. "I guess you're not familiar with the "be aware of the ogre" concept," as an answer, Rachel just rubbed the stubble on his chin, laughing for the ticklish sensation. "No, clearly you're not."

He knew if he would have tried to put her back on the ground, or next to him on the couch, she would have started crying; and he didn't want Cuddy to storm in and find him with her daughter crying. Either that, or once dinner would have been ready she would have come in to call him, finding him holding a happy Rachel. Both options sucked; the second one had actually more pros than cons, still he wouldn't have signed for neither of them, since in both cases he would have been screwed. Resigned, he was about to get back to watch TV trying to ignore Rachel's hands all over his face, when the way the kid was stirring in his hands felt strange all of sudden. Puzzled, and a bit worried, he resisted until the fussing added anxiety and he caved. And when he picked up the kid, holding her in front of him, Rachel provided him with an efficient way out from his dead-end.

Puking on him.


	6. Chapter 6

6

It was funny, and it shouldn't have been.

Cooking dinner for herself and House. House, who had offered his help spontaneously; House, watching Rachel in her living room; House, looking at her daughter with a hint of smile… Cooking dinner for House was not normal, and be happy about that shouldn't have been a normal reaction. Still, it had been a long time she had cooked for someone other than herself. Moreover, since Rachel had gratefully become part of her life, she rarely have had the time to cook at all, relying on quick salads or take away food.

Then yes, that situation left a lump of oddness stack in her throat, along with a vague sense of joy. The second one bringing a smile to her lips, when she heard House's feet and cane tapping on the tiles of her kitchen floor.

"I told you one hour," she said cheerfully, without turning around. "Food doesn't prepare itself."

"Your kid threw up on me."

House's announced calmly in a flat, stating voice, and Cuddy.

"Oh c'mon House! It was months ago, I thought you were over it-"

"I mean again, you genius!"

Just then, hearing his not to joking tone, Cuddy turned around, her mouth suddenly falling open. House was standing on the kitchen door, holding Rachel away from him, handling her as if she was made of glass. He stared right at Cuddy with a serious glare, and she stared back at the big stain of baby barf on his shirt.

"You are planning on doing something about this, or you'll just keep staring?" He insisted, slightly pissed by her lack of reaction.

"Oh my God," Cuddy huffed, quickly looking for a towel to clean her hands. "You're right, I'm sorry."

That said she quickly approached him, House let out a sigh of relief when she took Rachel from his hands, immediately focused on the child. Appalled, House stood watching Cuddy walking away from him, lulling Rachel and urging to clean her face, whispering her those nonsense bunch of words moms seem to be trained to deliver. Half-angry and half-surprised, House glanced down at his shirt, the green-yellow stain of barf on the black fabric hitting his eyes like a punch in the face. He then recovered and looked over at Cuddy, who was ignoring him. He opened his mouth but closed it soon, she was studying Rachel as guinea pig and not even a single drip of her attention could have been devoted to him. He rolled his eyes and limped toward the sink, grabbed a fistful of paper towels and soaked them with water.

He had just started to remove the barf when Cuddy stepped next to him and he smirked, turning toward her ready to express his personal insight on the situation.

"What did you do to her?" She glared at him. "Why did she vomit? I just asked you to keep an eye on her."

"My bad, yes," he answered, more worried about getting rid of the stain, and then looked up at her icy eyes. Right off the bat, his preservation instinct warned him not to screw with an angry mother, but eventually his real nature won. "I was just playing with her, ok? I was pretending she was an airplane, I was just holding her up making silly engine noises, and she was laughing and the moment after she puked on me-"

"You were-"

In the blink of an eye, Cuddy's face changed. He could see all her muscles relax and melt in a softer expression, almost sweet, and he gulped nervously. _Oh c'mon Cuddy!_ He whined silently, almost scared by the way her attitude changed. _Don't tell me you buy this?_

Maybe she was, or maybe not, but he had to do something to get out of that. And despite everything, he felt he couldn't let her take his lie. He coughed absently and went back to the sink, still trying to clean the shirt, muttering loud enough for her to hear.

"Moms really do buy everything," he grumbled. "I was watching TV, she was on the carpet making strange noises. I picked her up," he shrugged and looked down at the stain, then turned toward her. "What the hell did she eat by the way? Reagan's vomit was nicer."

"Watch your mouth!" Cuddy warned him, then looked over at his shirt and went back to Rachel who was silently observing them as if she had no part in that. "Take that off. I'll put it in the washing machine."

Puzzled, House blinked as Cuddy went back to check on Rachel, unable to hold back his thoughts about what was going on. Things hadn't gone as he had imagined, but at the same time they hadn't gone completely the other way around; overall, everything seemed to follow the right way.

His way.

Of course, she hadn't bought his story about the airplane; she had done nothing but jerk him around and having him admit he had indeed looked after Rachel. That wasn't rewarding, but sure less demeaning than been forced to admit the kid had screwed with him; not to mention, one way or the other, he came out of that graciously.

_It's a win-win situation,_ he celebrated in his own head, unbuttoning his shirt. _Just keep it quiet and enjoy this, ok?_

He did, he handled Cuddy the dirty shirt and she disappeared. Left alone, with Rachel once again, House huffed and took a deep breath filling his nostrils with the smell of the food Cuddy had put in the oven. It looked delicious as much as it smelled good, and his stomach roared as he pictured himself showing forkfuls of food in his mouth, thinking he could have survived without meat for one night.

"Ga?"

Still facing the oven, House rolled his eyes and turned back to Rachel. She was sitting on her high chair, and she seemed ready as much as him to throw something in her mouth.

_God I hope so!_ He muttered to himself taking a couple of steps toward her. _At least she'll stop saying random things all the time._

"Taka?" Rachel asked.

"I don't think so," House stated leaning down on the table, facing the kid. "Unless you want to see Ga hanging on the hospital lobby, and not by his heck," Rachel giggled, almost as if she'd gotten his joke. "So, tell me, between the two of us, no witness," he whispered in Rachel's face, after a quick look at the door to make sure Cuddy was not coming back. "Is this puking on me your way to hit on me?"

"Haaaaa, Ga!" Was all Rachel said, taking advantage of House's proximity to check if the beard on his chin was still itchy as the last time she had checked.

"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered then, pulling away from her as he heard Cuddy come back, heading to the fridge. "Don't tell mommy, we don't want her to find out about us right?"

When Cuddy came back in the kitchen, she found House digging in her fridge, giving his back to Rachel who was giggling hysterically and waving her arms to him. Cuddy folded her arms and huffed frustrated, rolling her eyes as she stepped in front of the sink to finish the salad she was preparing for herself.

"Are you always this charming with women?" She asked teasingly, and he answered with a grunt sipping from a bottle of beer he had found in the fridge.

"Nope," he huffed. "Just the ones who ruin my 100$ shirts."

"100$?" Cuddy asked, shocked. "Is that how much you spend to look like a homeless?"

"A very fashionable homeless, please. And the fact you sign my checks doesn't give you the right to question how I spend my money."

"Oh, I'm actually kind of relieved," she muttered absently as she set the table. "At least you don't spend them all on hookers-"

House felt a strange shiver running down his spine, that shiver bantering with her always gave him. He realized how much he had missed that, and how strange it was doing that in her kitchen-

"Ga, Ga!"

-with an annoying little stalker after him.

"What's up Rachel?" Cuddy asked, immediately switching to her mom voice and taking her daughter's hands. "We're boring you?"

Behind Cuddy, House froze when the girl looked and smiled at him, but fortunately, nothing but a confused ensemble of sounds came out of her small mouth. She giggled, Cuddy chuckled and smiled and he sighed relieved, but soon he found out he wasn't completely safe.

"I don't know what's up with her," Cuddy sighed then handling Rachel one of her toy, so she could entertain herself while they ate.

"It's a kid," House blurted shrugging. "Throwing up is her third main occupation, other than sleep and poop."

"I was talking about this ga thing," she explained with a grin, then went to oven to get the lasagne. "She keeps babbling it all the time."

Taking advantage of Cuddy not looking at him, House shoot Rachel a warning glare. Which, of course she didn't get, and he had to place a finger on his lips to tell her to stay put when he saw her stirring in the chair toward him. But when Cuddy rested the steaming lasagne on the table, the food became the centre of his attention.


	7. Chapter 7

_So, everybody loves Ga? Rachel sure does, but don't forget the grown ups in this story…_

* * *

><p>7<p>

Food was awesome, and dinner wasn't as awkward as House thought it would be. Despite rejecting some food Rachel was still hungry, and Cuddy seemed to forget about anything else when it came to her daughter. Not that he expected to engage in a conversation with her, serious or stupid one. House hoped they wouldn't end up talking about work, and he prayed they stayed miles away from any possible dangerous topic.

Unfortunately, being them, any topic was potentially a dangerous one.

"Aren't you feeding her too much?" He questioned, showing food in his mouth.

"Are you actually advising me on how to take care of my daughter?"

"Will you keep her an herbivorous for the rest of her life?"' House went on, careless of Cuddy's snarky remark, filling his plate with more lasagne.

"Yeah, you grew up so well eating meat!" She snorted smacking his hand away.

"How late will you keep her up?"

"She won't fight you for the remote, if that's what you're worried about."

Cuddy shoot back without looking at him, instead focused on cleaning Rachel's mouth. House smirked, but then frowned. Remote? How long did she think he would have stayed after dinner?

Cuddy stood up with Rachel in her arms, she positioned the kid on her chest with the face poking from above her shoulder, and bounced her a couple of times, wondering why it took her so long that night to burp. What she couldn't see, was that Rachel's mouth was too busy smiling at House to take care of such a stupid thing. As for himself, House took advantage to serve himself with more food, but felt observed and froze, finding the kid's eyes on him.

_Oh crap!_ House thought rolling his eyes, and then showed Rachel his tongue. She giggled, happy to get his attention, and finally gave her mom what she wanted.

"Good girl," Cuddy soothed her, caressing her back.

"Yes, you say that now," House quipped. "Two years from now, you'd slap her if she dares."

"That's why they call it Peter Pan's syndrome House," she shoot back, smiling at Rachel who widened her mouth in a long and loud yawn. "Or you're just envious?"

House wanted to say something, but when he saw Cuddy watching her daughter falling asleep in her arms, he thought better to keep his mouth shut. The kid was Cuddy's sensible spot, and her strength at the same time. His jokes and remarks rarely bothered her, she never missed the chance to answer back. When it came to Rachel Cuddy rose to the occasion as always, and found the way to be even more confident. Real daughter or not, Cuddy was indeed the lioness.

And sometimes, a lioness doesn't need a partner to take care of her cubs.

"I'll put her to sleep," Cuddy announced, already whispering.

House didn't know what to say, but maybe nothing was the best choice. Cuddy hesitated a moment standing in front of him, who saw the signs of the fatigue of the day catching up with her, and then she left the kitchen. Every night, when she put her daughter into the crib, Lisa Cuddy blessed God for that little girl and her calm nights. She changed Rachel and finally left her alone, realizing then with a gulp in her throat what was waiting for her in the kitchen.

However, House never ceased to amaze her, for better or for worst. When she stepped back in the kitchen, for the first time without the protection of Rachel's presence, she stood on the door, honestly shocked when she saw him warming the rest of lasagne in the oven.

"I can see you really took advantage of my dinner offer-" Cuddy mumbled shaking her head.

Then she looked around and her eyes caught the kettle on the fire, the box of tea bags on the counter, and she knew she had it all wrong. Long before House took the lasagne out of the oven, serving her a generous plate.

"You haven't eaten yet," he stated, immediately averting his eyes, and then he nodded at the kettle. "Not sure what your poison is, but you look like you need some."

Knowing House for many years, made her one of the few people capable to recognize his pure kind gestures for what they were. However, that didn't make it less of a shock for her. Cuddy cursed him behind her smiling lips, wondering why he always hid that caring side of him under layers of sarcasm and deflection. Therefore, she took the offer without nagging him about it; she was indeed starving, and she couldn't say no to a cup of tea.

"You should try some too," she suggested while plunging a teabag in a mug.

"Are you trying to kill me?" He muttered, but Cuddy's smile almost melted him and he felt the itchy need to deflect. "The monster is asleep?"

"Rachel," Cuddy clarified with some lasagne in her mouth. "She's sleeping yes. Thanks for asking."

"Just checking," he huffed. "My ears needs to recover."

House wished she could say something else, because after that, he found himself out of words. And he didn't want that. No matter how annoying Rachel's presence was, it provided him protection; protection from himself, because being alone with Cuddy any words was potentially a dangerous one. Cuddy ate and sipped her tea taking her time, enough for him to elaborate an escaping plan.

"I need to call a cab," a very lame one, indeed. "I have to go back to the hospital and pick up my bike."

_You son of a- _Cuddy grinned behind her teeth. _What a gentleman, leaving it up to me this way!_

What was she supposed to answer then? No matter what her answer would have been, she was the one taking all the risks. The ball was in her court; she could tell him it wasn't necessary, or instead tell him that yes, he should have called a cab since she clearly couldn't drive him back to the hospital. However, both possibilities were risky. To tell him he didn't need to leave implied they had something else to do, and to agree with him sounded like she didn't want him there anymore.

_Genius!_ Her voice mocked her inside her head. _Like you didn't know that already, the moment you let him get in your car!_

No, she didn't. Ok, maybe she had thought about that, but with Rachel crying and everything else, his offer had seemed too good to be true. And she had wanted that, that was the truth. The idea of having House around for a while, outside the hospital, not forced to deflect and be a jerk, had been an interesting perspective. Moreover, the image of House and Rachel asleep on the couch was still stuck in her mind. Somehow, she thought while drinking away the last sip of tea, that cleared the field about what she wanted. Problem was how to get it without let him know what she wanted.

A problem that, however, she didn't have the chance to face. Lost in her own reasoning, she didn't realize how long and thoughtful her silence had been, something House could only take as a silent agreement to his statement. That was why Cuddy almost chocked when she saw him take the phone out of his pocket, heading out of the room.

"You shirt," Cuddy said all of sudden, blurting words out in desperation. "It will be ready in about 40 minutes."

Standing on the kitchen door, House saw Cuddy gulp nervously and he hoped he wasn't doing the same. Then he just nodded and went into the hallway, taking the cab service business card he kept in his wallet. Once alone, Cuddy closed her eyes and huffed in frustration, mad at herself. Not only House then believed she wanted him out, but more likely he also thought she was a stupid woman who didn't know what she wanted.

_Then what?_ She asked herself shaking her head. _Isn't it true?_


	8. Chapter 8

_We left House and Cuddy dealing with unexpected tension. Can they recover from that?_

* * *

><p>8<p>

Since it seemed like he had no chance to end the conversation in the proper way, House just slammed the phone close. He stared at it for a moment, then huffed and took off the volume of ring tone, for precaution. Cuddy's silent reaction to his statement, along with her lame attempt to recover the situation, quickly ran through in his head. It had taken her a long time to answer his words, which wasn't a good sign. On the other hand, he had felt the need to say something because the tension was killing him. Once he had left for the living room, once alone, House had realized he couldn't blame her. After all, he was clueless as much as her on what to do, and he wanted to cling on her last words, on the subtle offer hidden behind her statement over his shirt.

_Ok Cuddy, I'll give you another chance,_ he thought before heading back to the kitchen. _Don't blow it._

The world must have been about to implode on itself; he was giving a second chance to Cuddy! However, world as he used to know it had already been tossed around that night, since from when he had thought about helping Cuddy. Trying to regain control of himself, and most of the muscles of his face, House stepped back in the kitchen and found Cuddy standing near the sink. She was doing the dishes, and a small cloud of steam came from the sink, making him frown.

"Are you washing or sterilize them?" He asked, honestly impressed but the hot temperature of the water.

"Hot water is the best way to get rid of tomatoes sauce stains."

She stated knowingly, glancing at him with a small smile. It felt a bit forced, but he grinned back giving more confidence to both of them. Not sure about what he was supposed to do, House nodded slowly, more to himself. Eventually, curiosity won over him and he tentatively stretched one arm, tasting the temperature of the water on his hand.

"Jesus Cuddy!" He moaned, sucking at his hand to ease the spot.

Cuddy's smile grew a bit bigger and she huffed, then she closed the tap from hot to cold and moved it toward him, so he could put his hand under the fresh water, then threw him a towel.

"I'm just used to this," she explained absently, while putting the dishes away.

"To what?" He questioned mockingly, leaning with his back on the fridge and folding his arms on his chest. "Give yourself first grade scalds?"

"Cooking my dinner and wash the dishes in the same evening, House," she shot back with a grin.

He rolled his eyes to her mocking but didn't answer, and then he observed her preparing herself another cup of tea.

"Doesn't all this tea prevent you from sleeping?"

Words came out of his mouth and he couldn't stop them. He wished he could, because they were stupid ones. He could stand the awkwardness of the situation, he could bear the shy silences between them, but he couldn't accept to fill them with silly conversation. But he had been the one speaking, and it was too late to take that back.

"I'm usually too tired anyway," she confessed without looking at him, and then she seemed to realize what a huge secret she had just revealed.

Nevertheless, when she looked up at him, fishing in her mind for a joke to deflect, she caught a glimpse of caring and concern in those blue eyes that most of the times just ran away from her, and everything else, when they were showing something deep. There was no mocking, no jokes…she knew how House's face looked when he was about to jerk someone around, and she found no trace of that on his face in that moment. However, he gave her no warning for the kind of words that coming of his mouth the moment after.

"I'm not surprised," he whispered shyly. "You deal with so many things every day, on your own," he shook his head absently, not looking at her. "It must be a good feeling, pull the plug and stop thinking now and then."

"I don't," Cuddy said back, wondering why all of sudden whispering seemed to be so important. "Like you…I guess both our brains don't know how to rest."

House smiled sadly, to himself and to her, then dived one hand in the pocket of his jeans and took the bottle of Vicodin, showing it to her.

"I can use some help," he said then, but Cuddy answered lifting up her mug of tea in a toasting gesture.

"Me too, and I don't even need a prescription."

"Me neither," he said with a grin. "I just need Wilson."

Cuddy rolled her eyes but smiled. With a shiver, House thought how beautiful those little smiles were, wondering how she could deliver them balancing seriousness and sweetness. He found himself staring at her and shrugged, trying to free himself from that spell. He still had no idea how he had ended up there, why he was still there. House feared those moments they were sharing…but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger-

"Not sure what's harder," he mumbled then, looking down at his sneakers. "Taking care of a kid or run a whole hospital. How you manage both without any drugs fascinates me."

She should have been mad at him. She had to wonder why he couldn't finish one sentence without a joke, especially when it wasn't necessary. Why did he feel the need to hide behind sarcasm every time? Why had he felt the need to say those words, to let her know, in his way, he admired something other than his own abilities? Cuddy sat down at the table, House's words made her legs weak. She hoped that could help her to find the right words to answer his genuine, although subtle, compliment. Apparently, though, House wasn't done yet.

"You can handle everything on your own, I know that," he couldn't raise his head and look at her, not if he wanted to go on. "But you look tired recently. Last week you didn't try as hard as usual to have me do my clinic hours."

An absent smile came up to Cuddy's lips, she seemed lost staring at the tea in the mug, but she was indeed listening to him. That scene looked quite odd; they were in the same room, looking anywhere but at each other, speaking shyly and in a low voice, and none of them looked like they were listening. But they were. House wasn't just randomly talking, and Cuddy wasn't missing a single one of his words.

"Life changes," she mumbled softly, half to House and half to herself, then shrugged. He grunted softly, wondering why she couldn't simply admit she was good at whatever she did. "I just try to do my best."

"You are, that's the point," he confessed, he dared to look at her to catch her reaction but her face was nothing more than a mask of sadness and shyness. Studying that face, House asked himself when it had been the last time someone had cheered her up about her multiple skills, then he gulped nervously. "I just think you should take more time for yourself. You could use some help-"

"Some help, yes," she huffed leaning back on the chair, glancing at him with a teasing smile. "It worked so well last time-"

Maybe it was the way the muscles on his face tensed, how she saw his body froze as soon as her words spread in the air, or the way he imperceptibly sighed and clenched his jaw. Everything, in his apparent lack of reaction, told Cuddy she had successfully managed to say the wrong thing in the wrong moment. The second chance she didn't know she had, was gone, and she couldn't really blame him. He shook his head and straightened up, as if he was ready to go; but before he could say anything, Rachel's cry came through the baby speaker on the table. Being happy to hear her daughter crying made her a horrible mother, however she was glad she had a reason to leave the room.

Without saying a word, House watched her get out of the kitchen and head to Rachel's room. He wasn't sure whether to be thankful to the little girl, but when he took the cell phone out of his pocket again, this time to call a cab for real, his hand was lightly shaking in frustration.

* * *

><p>"Please Rachel, shush. It's ok, it's ok."<p>

She was a liar, a big bad liar who selfishly wanted her daughter to stop crying. She needed Rachel to calm down and go back to sleep, as soon as possible. She had something to fix, something that was as much as important the rest of her child.

Lulling and bouncing Rachel in her arms, Cuddy closed her eyes and huffed frustrated. She cursed herself for having been so stupid, once again. He was being nice, he was being caring an understanding, he had admitted more about what he thought about her as a woman and as a boss than what he had done in years…and she had screwed up.

Twice.

With no mercy, she had remembered him the not so subtle conflict between him and Rachel, between how her life had been for years and the new one. She had managed to bring up one of things she was more ashamed of in her life, all with just a single mumbled line.

_Aren't you proud of yourself?_ She asked herself. _Aren't you happy?_

No, no for God's sake she wasn't. Not happy, surely not proud. She had hurt him, he was being nice, since from when he had helped her in the parking. Offering his help, keeping an eye on Rachel and holding back when she had vomited on him…and that was how she paid him back. Reminding him he was the reason she couldn't dedicate more time to her daughter. Not only she had dissolved his efforts in a cloud of frustration, but she had practically kicked his ass out of her place with a "Thanks for playing" sign on his back.

_No,_ she said to herself, determinate as she usually was. _No, I'm going in there and I'll fix this. I have to._

If only Rachel would go back to sleep! She loved her daughter, but she wanted to recover the situation in the kitchen, and she could solve only one crisis at the time. It took her 15 minutes to calm down Rachel, and as soon as she was sure the kid was fine she ran out of the nursery heading back to the kitchen. Pacing the hallway with quick and short steps she rub her forehead, thinking about a way to adjust things. She was ready to apologize, to try anything to explain she didn't mean what she had said. But she was so lost in her own thoughts, that she didn't notice House stepping into the hallway until she crashed on him.

"My cab is here," he said in a flat tone, taking his leather racket.

Cuddy's eyes travelled from him to the door, and then she looked back at him, her lips fumbling to put together some words.

"House-"

"You can give me the shirt tomorrow," he stated, and then, for the last time that night, he looked at her. And Cuddy wished he had never done that, because his gaze was so empty that she already knew it would have haunted her dreams that night. "I'm sure you'll find a way to give it back to me without let anybody know how you ended up with one of my shirts."

With those words dancing in the air House just opened the door, then picked up his backpack and stepped outside. When the door closed, Cuddy wondered if her words had hurt him as much as his ones had just done.


	9. Chapter 9

_I just wanted to thank you all for the time and the attention you give to his little fic. Back then when I wrote it, this was something new and different for me, being light on drama. But worry not; I'm confident there's plenty to keep you around, especially with this chapter._

9

"There you are" Wilson greeted him when he entered his office. "That was rude, even for you."

"Why?" House answered back, frowning. "I didn't tell my patient she was a moron, when I found out she cheated on her husband."

Standing on the door of his friend's office, Wilson rolled his eyes and huffed. The jerkiness of his best friend never ceased to amaze him, and it was a scary thought most of the time. However, it wasn't because if House's lack of touch with his patients that he was there.

"You cancelled poker," the oncologist stated stepping closer to him. "Better say, you left 4 people outside your door wondering if something happened to you-"

"If you want to lie to me, you better practice," House cut him off annoyed, devoting his attention to the screen of his computer, playing a solitaire. "You have the keys to my place, you could have gone inside and check if you were really worried about me. And I doubt three men I don't even allow to use my bathroom could worry about me," he paused and glanced at Wilson from behind his reading glasses, with a knowing look. "I called you before the rest of the gang so you could warn them all. If you're trying to make me feel guilty, you should try harder."

"Ok Sherlock," Wilson muttered annoyed and enlarged his arms. "So why did you dump us yesterday? And why did you tell me at the very last moment?"

_Because I had a chance...I thought I had one and I wanted to seize it_! House growled to himself, pain still vivid inside him when he remembered how stupid he had been. How could he think it was possible, that a simple nice gesture could reward him? He should have known better; there was no point in being nice, not if you are expecting any sort of payback.

"I wanted to get drunk last night."

House blurted instead, hastily giving up on the game. He didn't want to expose anything, but he had to give something Wilson not to let him think he might be hiding something.

"You always get drunk when we play poker," the oncologist rebuked him with a smirk.

"Yes, and you usually piss me off because I shouldn't," House answered without missing a bit, and then joined his hands on his lap. "I was not in the mood to have people around and be nice-"

"As if you usually try to."

"Yes, that's the point," he huffed. "I'm never nice, and yesterday I was not in the mood. I could dump the poker gang, or force myself into it risking destroying the group once for all."

Wilson studied his friend for a while, and eventually shrugged. House was right, awful things came out of his mouth when he was in a bad mood. However, that didn't fill all the blanks in the situation. Wilson could accept, and understand, why House had cancelled poker not to scare everybody away; that still didn't explain what had caused his sudden bad mood. He had known House for years, he had seen him going through many bad moments, for different reasons, and he could tell when something bothered him. He also knew push his buttons to have him spill the guts, was not always the best strategy. Not that he expected House to open up: however, when he left his office, apparently not interested in knowing what was going on, the oncologist knew he had managed to puzzle House enough to plant the teasing seed of doubts in his mind.

* * *

><p>Damn Wilson.<p>

House lazily rolled on his bed, growling out his frustration and sunk his face in the pillow. Still grumbling, he looked at the alarm on the nightstand with the corner of his eyes: 2 am.

Damn Wilson!

How could he screw with him that way, doing absolutely nothing? He could have asked something else; he could have gone on and bugged him with questions, trying to get the real reason out of him... Instead, he had kept his mouth shut, making him feel as if his real reason for missing poker wasn't worth his usually caring and tireless attention. Which was the best way to hook him up; Wilson knew lack of reaction was the most effective way to get one from him.

Damn Wilson!

But he wasn't mad at Wilson. As it usually happened, his annoyance toward him was a cover to deny the fact he was mad at himself, or confused-

"Damn Cuddy!" He muffled a curse in the pillow and rolled on his back, fighting back the desire to hide his face under the covers.

Why? Why had she felt the need to say that? Didn't she think he felt guilty because of that, for the fact that because of him she couldn't take time off to stay with her daughter? Hadn't he tried to apologize, somehow, taking her pranks and jokes without fighting back, leaving her taste the spicy flavour of victory and revenge? What more did she want from him?

Blinking furiously House straddled his face with one hand, huffing in the darkness of his bedroom and smirking at the first hint of headache in the back of his head. Could he really blame her? Could he really say he had no part in her snarky remark? After all, she was right; how could she expect something good from him? Hadn't he be naïve, thinking a simple gesture of help could make the difference after years of jerkiness?

Damn...himself! Oh God, no matter how hard he tried, at the end of the day the only one he could consider responsible of his own misery was but himself. And he hated that. He hated that, as much as he hated the loud and annoying baby cry coming to his years, from a distance that he judged being the one between his bedroom and the door.

At first, he ignored it. He took the pillow and sunk his face in it, trying to get rid of the bugging sound. Which, instead, became persistent and closer, reinforced by a fierce knock on the door. Frowning, House emerged from the pillows and listened again. He wanted to believe it wasn't his door, or at least that the two annoying sounds weren't related, but when they both became louder he had to give up and left the bed. Muffling confused words, House grabbed the first t-shirt he found and put it on, then limped to the door rolling his eyes at the raising volume of the sounds coming from the other side.

However, he did one big mistake; opening the door before figure out how to handle that situation. No matter how smart he was, he didn't know where to place "messed up woman with crying child showing up at his door in the middle night".


	10. Chapter 10

_Don't you think we left them in an unusual situation? Let's see how things work out._

10

_You must be fucking kidding me!_ House thought, looking at Cuddy standing in front of him, with messy clothes on and holding a crying Rachel in her arms.

"You must be fucking kidding me!" He then blurted grinding his teeth. "You better shut her up before I get kicked out-"

"I need you," she said with no hesitation, her voice going straight to the point but also alarmed. "She's been crying for more than one hour. She doesn't have fever, I checked everything. I don't understand what's wrong-"

_Oh, so that's how it goes?_ The voice in his brain grunted again. _Last night she reminds you what a pain in the ass you are, today she completely ignores you and now that her screaming machine is sick, you're the one she looks for? Oh, the guts she has! Can you believe it? Kick her out and tell her... Hei, what the fuck are you doing?_

The voice in his head shut as the door of his apartment, which he closed after he let Cuddy in, without saying a word. With one hand on his right thigh, he watched her pace his living room, bouncing Rachel in her arms and keep checking her face.

"She was sleeping, then all of sudden she woke up crying, I don't know," Cuddy babbled, her words an uncontrolled river. "She's not hungry, I tried to feed her but that wasn't the problem. She doesn't need to be changed…I don't know. I don't know-"

She kept repeating that, vocalizing her defeat in a painful way. It was a painful sight, and House took Rachel from her arms more to avoid that than anything else. He studied the child's red crying face as he held her under her armpits, then he limped toward the couch and sat down. Being the mass of pulsating nerves she was, Cuddy stayed where she was. House thought her body was simply unable to flex and bend, and she kept tormenting her hands while he studied Rachel with attentive and expert eyes.

"I don't know if she's in pain. I can't ask her, I have no idea-"

House was having a hard time focusing on Rachel, fussing and moving like an epileptic and still crying; the last thing he needed was Cuddy pushing his buttons. He tried to ignore her and devoted his attention to the kid, for a moment hoping whatever connection he had with the kid could work, and she would stop crying. Carefully, he placed the kid on the coffee table. Feeling Cuddy's gaze on his neck, House took off Rachel's pyjamas, fighting against her short legs waving in the air.

"House," Cuddy asked on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "House please tell me," she then frowned, looking at him taking off Rachel's socks. "What's wrong? You think I should take her to the hospital? What-"

"Does she sleeps in a wooden crib?" He asked absently while holding Rachel's arms, trying to contain her confused movements.

"What? Yes, why?" Cuddy stepped toward him, almost wanting to strangle him for his cool and calm behave while her daughter in pain. "Why, House? What's wrong? For God's sake, tell me!"

"In the bathroom, the cabinet," he instructed her, still keeping his eyes on Rachel. "There's a tweezers. And I'll need some cotton and alcohol too," he kept looking at the kid, but when he heard nothing coming from Cuddy behind him he turned around and nodded at her. "And get me the yellow box near the toothpaste," she didn't react, she seemed resented he was giving her orders, unable to see she actually had no right to oppose any resistance given the circumstances, and House realized he had to do something more to have her do what he wanted. "Cuddy! Now!"

The urgency in his voice was intentionally exaggerated, but it worked. He saw Cuddy being jolted on her feet, and even if she didn't believe those items were necessary she ran outside the room, heading to his bathroom. Along with the kid, House sighed and shook his, then took Rachel's smalls hands and tried to calm her down, whispering soft words in a low voice. Then he smiled to himself, when he heard the noises coming from the bathroom, where Cuddy seemed to be tearing upside down his cabinet.

"Mommy's got a problem with self-control, doesn't she?" House muttered to Rachel with a grin.

However, he kept his mouth shut when Cuddy burst back in the living room, carrying what he had asked her. She was so fast that she almost tripped on her own feet, but she made it and joined him on the couch. Fumbling to get things from her trembling hands. House took the bottle of alcohol and poured some liquid on the cotton, then used it to clean a small spot on Rachel's left foot plant. Cuddy opened her mouth but asked nothing, she was still worried but also amazed by how he was skilfully proceeding. With him being so focused on Rachel, she realized how fast her heart was beating and tried to calm down, watching House disinfect the tweezers, then placed his left hand on Rachel. She was so tiny and small that his hand almost covered her entirely, trying to keep her steady. Mesmerized, Cuddy held her breath keeping his hand on Rachel who, however without stop crying, seemed to calm down a little. Just the time he needed to lower his hand on her left leg, and hold it firmly but gently as he used the tweezers to remove something from her foot.

It was like witnessing a magic trick from behind the scenes. As soon as the small splinter came out of her foot, the cry faded into confused sobs and sighs, until nothing but silence came from her small mouth. Almost unaware of Cuddy still looking at him, House tossed the tweezers on the coffee table and looked around. He didn't find what he was looking for, and then looked over at Cuddy, who seemed appalled and shocked. He rolled his eyes and huffed, then stretched one hand toward her in a demanding gesture, nodding at the yellow box in her hands. Confused, Cuddy looked down at her own hands holding the box, and quickly gave it to him. House sighed annoyed and took it, picking out of it a plaster he carefully applied on Rachel's foot.

Leaving Cuddy wishing the floor could swallow her right then.


	11. Chapter 11

_House the magician made the trick: now what?_

* * *

><p>11<p>

There was nothing left of Rachel's desperate cry, not even sobs or sighs. Instead, she seemed to find House's scowling face quite funny. Once he had applied the plaster on her tiny foot her eyes widened in amusement, and Cuddy could swear not only she had recognized him, but also she was deeply interested in a face that was becoming familiar for her. What really shocked her was the glimpse of caring in House's eyes as he looked down at her daughter, oddly wrapping her in the blanket. A small hint of genuine concern, with a trace of relief, which did nothing but exasperate the sense of guilt she had felt, constantly, in the last 24 hours.

Unable to speak, Cuddy instinctively took a step back as he stood up from the couch, but then shyly stretched her arms toward him when he handled her Rachel. Silent, Cuddy spurred herself to say something, anything. Apologize for the night before, and her unfortunate choice of words; explain the doubt she couldn't fix it had prevented her from looking for him during the day; confess she had been afraid her mistake was irrecoverable. She had to tell him all those things, and she couldn't decide where to start. However, the happy and reassuring giggling of her daughter in her arms was a major distraction after the sheer terror she had lived in in the last two hours.

Standing in front of her, House studied her with an inquiring gaze then, acting as if he was alone in the room, he limped slowly t the window, moved the blinds and looked outside in time to see a lightening thunderbolt cut the sky. Rolling his eyes, he glared at Cuddy and gave his attention back outside, darting the road before looking back at her.

"You're insane," he shoot then, as he took the bottle of Vicodin from the coffee table.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I know it's the middle of the night, I," Cuddy closed her eyes and sighed. "She didn't' stop crying, I thought she was sick-"

"You drove here in the middle of the night on the perfect storm with a spare car, without child seat. And panicking"

"I was...not...panicking-"

Cuddy tried to defend herself, but she didn't believe her own words. Not only she had done something stupid going nuts over Rachel's cry, but also she had done something even more insane by driving there in those conditions. She could try to tell him adrenaline took control, but truth was her mind had gone completely blank. Watching House passing by her on his way to the kitchen, Cuddy looked down at Rachel, glad to find her sleeping again. And thanks to her daughter's peaceful face, Cuddy finally found something worth to say.

"Thank you House," she said stepping in the kitchen, and the glass of water he was holding almost fell inside the sink. "For this and for yesterday."

Giving his back to her, House couldn't help but close his eyes, his hand clenched around the glass as he fought back the wave of naïve satisfaction, maybe even joy, her words gave him. Nevertheless, he didn't allow himself to smile. Her genuine words were just a step back from an awful situation, not a solution; they were, once again, at the starting box on the game. Which was a problem: from now on every words, every reaction could cause both steps forward and massive damages.

Sighing, House closed the tap and turned toward her, stretching the hand with the glass in an offer gesture, gulping when he realized maybe her strategy, humility, something so unfamiliar for both of them, wasn't that out of place after all.

"You're welcome," he muttered out of breath, as their fingers brushed each other, then gulped and dared to launch dices again. "You should stay here."

Having to choose between her daughter and the glass, no doubt she would have let the second one drop and smash on the ground. House's invitation was so unexpected that every cell of her body lost connection with the brain. In a sad and painful remake, she relived in her mind the night before; images of her and House in her kitchen, eating and talking together, dancing around awkwardness. Thinking about that, she came back to the moment he had come to her rescue in the parking. She had attacked him and he had ignored her, strictly observing the usual scheme of their banters; however, unlike other moments, he had stayed to help, he had tried to be nice. It was the image of him stepping in her kitchen with Rachel in his arms, barf on his shirt, which convinced her the seriousness in his voice was real.

Still, once again he had to be the one sorting her out of troubles. After all, asking her to stay for the night sounded like an insane offer; as much as having dinner at her place the night before.

"You panicked. You were agitated because of the bundle of screams," he couldn't resist the name-calling. "You still are, and you're not equipped to drive safe, the streets are slippery. You're tensed and nervous, if you go back home you'll spend the rest of the night watching over her... Do you really need me to go on?"

"I didn't...I can call a cab."

_Geez Cuddy!_ House muttered to himself, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. _It didn't take you long to get your stubbornness back!_

"Then tomorrow you'll be without car, again. And you'll have to call another cab to come here to get back your spare car, still without child seat," he explained calmly, trying to apply to her rationality knowing it was taking back the lead now that emergency was over. "You can take the bed."

That said, House limped out of the room, leaving Cuddy frowning and appalled. With Rachel deep asleep in her arms, she looked over at House and followed him in the living room. From there he limped toward the closet, and dug out the mess inside a blanket and a pillow. Ignoring her, House went to the couch and served himself with a Vicodin as he sat down, finally deign her with a bored look.

"I'm not going to tuck you in, if that's what you're waiting for," he stated, then sighed and nodded at the kid. "Is she a deep sleeper?"

"I...yes she usually is," Cuddy answered, doubtful. "She cried for more than two hours, she should be exhausted. I don't think she'll wake up easily...why?"

Without a word, House stood up again and went to the bookshelf, he browsed the back of some books with his index and Cuddy watched him confused, as he picked the biggest and heaviest tomes of his collection. To her major surprise, he started to limp from the shelf to the armchair and back, accumulating books in what, after a while, she recognized as a wall all around the cushion. Once the bricklaying job was over, House went back to the couch and sat down, and then he laid down on his back and stretched his neck back looking up at Cuddy, waving his hand toward the armchair.

"Park the kid there," he said flatly. "And pray she's really too tired to wake up and throttle around."

"House!" Cuddy hissed in her teeth, bringing Rachel close to her chest. "I can't leave her there! If she wakes up-"

"And where were you planning on having her sleep?" He huffed annoyed, fatigue taking him over as he felt his eyes heavy. "In my bed with you, where you can end up choking her in the sheets? Or pushing her off the ground?"

A cold shiver ran down Cuddy's spine at the idea. She looked down at Rachel, and then looked over at House who had apparently fallen asleep judging by given the soft snoring. Still thinking about what to do, Cuddy darted the room looking for a clock, gulping when she realized it was half past three in the morning. Then she looked back at House, deep asleep, breathing loud with his mouth open and the blanket brought up to his neck.

_How many proofs do you need?_ She asked herself, feeling guilty for the way he had let her take control of his apartment, of his safe and sacred place, in the middle of the night. With a sad smile, she looked down at the comfortable yet peculiar nest he had built for Rachel, then sighed and carefully accommodated her daughter adjusting the blanket around the kid.

Once she was done, checked and double-checked, she stood up and headed to House bedroom. However, she stopped when she saw that House, rolling on his side, was losing the blanket. A smile, not sad, came to her face. She bent down and carefully adjusted the blanket on him, then stood up and silently walked to the bedroom.


	12. Chapter 12

12

It happened, now and then. Sometimes it was because of too much Vicodin, sometimes for too many drinks; but it wasn't the first time he woke up in the middle of the night with the itching sensation of being in an unknown place, somewhere he was not supposed to be. However, as he opened his eyes, House immediately spotted the stain on the ceiling of his living room due to the leak in Mr. Thompson waterbed, and he also recognized the leather of the couch on the bare skin of his feet. Then, what was that? Where did the unfamiliar sensation come from?

Maybe, but it was just a long shot, from the crying baby next to him.

He had to admit it wasn't a great one, she'd been louder in the past. House couldn't tell if he woke up because of that, but he knew for sure he didn't want freaking out Cuddy back on track. Biting at his bottom lip, House muttered something between his teeth and tossed the blanket away, then sat up on the couch and swallowed a Vicodin before standing up. He hovered above Rachel, still trapped between the books nest. When building it, he had carefully omitted to Cuddy he didn't actually think that knowledge barrier could be effective, and he snorted watching the fussy girl rolling around. House held his breath and rested his hands on his hips, praying in his mind whatever crisis Rachel was going through could end soon. Unfortunately, he had to surrender to the inevitable when Rachel's face contorted in a ugly grimace, and her small mouth trembled in the first symptoms of upcoming cry.

"Oh c'mon!" He hissed, leaning down on the kid to pick her up. "We should stop seeing each other like this- Shit!"

It was, indeed. His right hand touched the diaper and he felt it heavy, warm and full. His first instinct was to dump the kid back on the armchair, but he knew she would have continued crying. Muttering curses House held Rachel away from his chest, not willing to sacrifice yet another t-shirt, but had to try to bounce and lull her and then he limped to the hallway heading toward his bedroom.

_Her kid,_ he thought with a fierce smirk. _The_ _dirty job is up to her._

He was not going to step back from that. He could stand feeding her in case of need, he was ok watching her as far as she didn't puke on him, and he hadn't failed to notice how her face brightened when she saw him; nevertheless, there was no way he would spend a sleepless night wiping her ass-

That was not fair, not fair at all.

Keeping both hands on Rachel, House used his elbow to open the door of his bedroom, ready to yell at Cuddy either she took care of her child or she would have started to pay for his services. But the image in front of his eyes simply blew him away. She was deep asleep, right in the middle of his bed, spread on the mattress like only exhausted people can do, her arms open as if she was trying to embrace the bed and her face sunk in the pillows. House gulped down all the sensations the sight gave him, watching her dark curls forming a sweep he bet was soft and scented. His heart, and something lower, itched when he saw the sweater she was wearing when storming in his apartment was now resting on the footboard. If it hadn't been for the slow and regular movements of her body he would have thought she was dead, because he had never seen someone more asleep. He wasn't surprised; he did mean what he had told her the night before, he had noticed how tired she had been recently. House knew she had struggled with the whole mommy thing, but she had put in that everything she got, as she did with everything, and it was finally kicking in. Moreover, her body had probably collapsed surrendering to fatigue and stress, all her strength had been flushed away the moment emergency was over. He was far from pity her, but he could tell being a single mother and the dean of medicine of a big hospital was a lot to stand for anybody; even more so for a perfection achiever like Cuddy.

Moreover, he couldn't deny the view of Lisa Cuddy in his bed, no matter the circumstances, didn't leave him indifferent. All of sudden, his mind filled with stupid questions; he wondered if his mattress was comfortable enough for her, he tried to remember the last time he had changed the linen, he even fantasized about her catching his smell in the pillows... No, that was not fair at all, because waking her up would have been cruel, not just toward her but for himself too. He had given her a chance the night before and she had blown it, but that night she had made up somehow and he didn't want to take a step back. He wasn't willing to become Rachel's babysitter, not at all, but even he could tell Cuddy needed to rest. And maybe solve the crisis wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to him.

Mesmerized by the view, it took him a while to realize Rachel was fussing and moving in his arms. He looked down at her and saw she was stretching her arms toward Cuddy, with begging eyes.

"Sorry kiddo," he muttered bouncing the girl to cheer her up, closing the door. "Mommy is out of order. You're stuck with the ogre."

Thinking Cuddy owed him more than a homemade dinner, House carefully closed the door and limped back in the living room, barely aware of Rachel's hands on his chin, mainly because what seemed to be her favourite mantra at least managed to calm her down. Back in his living room, House darted the room as he had done a couple of days before in Cuddy's office, soon realizing he wouldn't have been lucky the same way. Cuddy had left her place in a hurry, scared and worried for her kid and eager to get there, forgetting any safety rule...no way she could have thought about something useful, such as bringing along the pink bag. The one with little useful things as bottles, diapers and all the items that happened to come in handy with a kid around.

"Great!" He hissed, holding Rachel right to his face. "What the hell am I supposed to do now?"


	13. Chapter 13

Sorry for the wait. Hope this will compensate.

* * *

><p>13<p>

Whatever reason of interest or distraction Rachel might find in his face, it was clear to House it wouldn't have worked any longer. He was holding the kid under her armpits, wondering if diapers could leak...

Terrified, the doctor realized with a shiver he didn't know what to do, and he hated being clueless. Holding his breath, he darted the room looking for he didn't know, therefore found nothing. He tried to put Rachel back on the armchair, then smirked and thought it wasn't a clever thing to do. Biting at his bottom lip, House grumbled something and urged limping to the bathroom, once there he carefully put Rachel in the sink and once again looked around, hoping his poor and essential furniture could give him something useful. He was already having a hard time handling the situation as it was, and he went pale when Rachel's face contorted in an expression of discomfort he could understand. After all, sitting in your own crap wasn't pleasant for anybody. However, he completely panicked when she started crying louder, waving arms and hands in the sink. He didn't want her to be stressed, and he didn't want Cuddy to wake up, storm in his bathroom and find him hanging around not knowing what to do with Rachel crying in the sink.

Desperate, House looked at himself in the mirror as if his own face could give him some advice, but nothing came, then he took a deep breath and decided to face things one step at the time. Carefully, using the tips of his fingers, he took the hems of Rachel's pyjamas and manoeuvred to undress her until he found the straps of the diaper, then gulped down and opened it smirking in surprise and disgust for what he found. Watchful, House tried to fight back the smell coming from the diaper and, handling it between two fingers, he tossed it in the tub. He could take care of the dangerous wastes later, then placed his open palm on Rachel and kept her steady while stretching his right arm toward the towels. He took one, gave it a quick smell and decided it was already stinky enough to serve the cause and placed it on his shoulder, then looked for his soap. Far from knowing, let alone being interested, in Rachel's skin particular needs, House opened the tap and washed his hands, muttering nonsense but soft words to Rachel as he turned her around. He held her steady with his left hand, while with the right one washed her with the soap. Maybe were his words, a slow singing as delicate as the movements of his hands, or the fact she wasn't dirty anymore; whatever the reason, Rachel went quiet switching from cry to giggle, tickled by the warm water on her skin.

House felt as if he was watching himself doing all that from outside. He couldn't believe he was r doing that, but he felt he had no other choice; all he wanted, was to take care of that and go back to sleep as soon as possible. Once Rachel seemed to be clean enough, he closed the tap and took the towel, he dried her the best he could, and once he had done, the towel joined the diaper in the tub. He looked down at Rachel, now calm and cheerful since her needs had been satisfied and, with a sigh of relief, he judged her cleaned up and at ease. However, he had no time to celebrate his success since he soon realized he had nothing to put on her to replace the diaper. Once again invaded by frustration and fear, House huffed and grumbled insults to whoever came to his mind, then looked at himself in the mirror and shrugged disconsolate, before taking off the t-shirt he was wearing. Defeated, he looked at the Led Zeppelin graphic on it and his hand clenched around the garment as his mouth muttered a sad goodbye, then wrapped it the better he could around Rachel. He wrapped her in what he judged an proper way, then he had to face the reality he didn't know how to steady the temporary diaper. House picked her up and headed back to his kitchen, he searched a couple of drawers until he found a roll of industrial tape. Huffing relieved he rested Rachel on the counter and readjusted the t-shirt around her, fighting back a small tear when he started to strap the tape on the delicate fabric of the t-shirt.

He took Rachel and held her up, checking the outfit accommodation, then looked at her face. She was giggling innocently, and House wondered if her hands clapping was her way to thank him for the solution he had found, or if she was just mocking him. Whatever the case, he decided he didn't care. House took a moment to listen to the sounds of his apartment, and when he didn't hear anything coming from the bedroom he finally relaxed and put the girl down on the counter, stretching his arms and breathing out all the tension.

"Seriously kid," he huffed. "It looks like you have a thing for me, for some weird reason. Then why are you constantly trying to give me a heart attack?"

Instead of answering, not that she could anyway, Rachel crawled on the counter until she found his left hand, she patted the back of it a couple of times and ended her trick by cling on his wrist, wrapping her arms around it. House froze all of sudden, she had given him more than one demonstration of her passion for him, but she always found new ways to shock him. He felt her clench on him, her tiny body wrapped on his skin and he looked down at her, who was fiercely and curiously looking for his eyes. They met in a puzzled gaze, and House couldn't stop the large warm smile he felt forming on his lips when she babbled his name, the way she used to do.

"Ga."

"That's not fair either," he muttered with a smile then sighed and picked her up, heading back to his living room.

Once there he put Rachel back on the armchair, checking the books around her, then adjusted the blanket and moved to the couch. He landed on it with a huge sigh or relief, and then looked at his watch and his eyes widened in shock when he saw it was 4 o'clock in the morning. Huffing, he rubbed his face with both hands feeling extremely tired all of sudden, wondering how Cuddy could do it every single day, then blinked a couple of times and sighed again, ready to go back to sleep. Then he spotted the bottle of pills and an unfinished glass of bourbon on the coffee table, thinking he deserved a little threat. He stretched his hand toward the glass and swallowed the content in a single sip, then added a second one from the bottle before switch to Vicodin. He took the bottle and shook it in his hand before flip the cup open with one finger-

"Taka!"

Rachel voice came from behind the books, cheerful and awake as if she was in the middle of a play date. House looked in her direction, stiffening on the couch. He seized his hand around the orange bottle and took a pill, trying to make it as silent as he could to prevent the pills to make the sound that seemed to entertain her so much.

"Taka?" He heard her say again, and rolled his eyes. "Ga, taka! Taka!"

"Oh for God's sake kid!" He blurted standing up and approaching the armchair. "Are you kidding me?"

"Ga!" She cried happy as she saw him, stretching her arms toward him. "Taka?"

Incredulous, House brought the bottle to his mouth and finally swallowed a pill, watching how Rachel's eyes kept following the movement of the orange bottle with great interest, giggling and rolling on her back stretching her arm toward him.

"Jesus kid," he huffed sitting on the floor next to the armchair. "The toys mommy buys you must be boring if you get so excited by this," he muttered, absently shaking the bottle in front of her eyes, at least knowing that would have knocked her down soon. "But you should find something else...better nothing that could kill you-"

The words died in his throat when he saw Rachel's eyelids, slowly but surely losing the battle. House shook the bottle some more times, until they closed completely and she fell asleep. He was about to stand up and go back to the couch, but when he tried to move he became aware of the firm grip of Rachel's hand around one of his finger.


	14. Chapter 14

14

"House! House wake up!"

A growl was all she got in reply. However loud, her voice didn't seem loud enough to wake him up, so she grabbed his shoulder with her free hand and tried again.

"House. House!"

When he felt himself pushed and pulled all over the place, wondering if that was how the pills in his bottles felt when he shook them, House said goodbye to sleep and stirred on the couch, absently massaging his leg. Then turned on his side and he found Cuddy. He blinked a couple of times, struggling to remember why she was there, and then became aware of the fact she had Rachel in her arms, fussing and sobbing.

"What?" He blurted, feeling tired already. "Did she cut her foot with the paper of the books?"

"No, she's just-"

"Then none of my business," he grumbled rolling back away from her, nestling on the couch hoping to get some more minutes of sleep.

"How can you keep sleeping with a crying child in the same room?" Cuddy asked shocked, as she tried to soothe her daughter, then let it go and headed toward the kitchen.

Biting his tongue just in time, House lazily rolled on the couch and fought back a groan of pain coming from his back when he sat up slowly. No, it wasn't necessary to tell Cuddy he had spent most of the night – after dealing with the diaper crisis - sitting on the floor, with his back on the side of the armchair because Rachel grip on his finger had been unbreakable. No, no need to tell her he had done that because he didn't want the kid she to wake up and cry again, claiming taka until dawn. He didn't want Cuddy to know he had waited up until 7 am to go back to the couch and try to get some rest…God, he felt pathetic just thinking about that!

Ignoring Cuddy as she went to his kitchen, House spotted the clock and rolled his eyes, calculating he had slept more or less 3 hours that night, not even straight. Then took the Vicodin bottle from the coffee table and swallowed two, one for his leg and one for his back. He was about to stand up, when Rachel babbling taka from the kitchen sent a shiver down his spine, making him realize the poop intervention of the night before had left behind slags he had to take care of. Taka, first of all: he had to find a way to get that out of Rachel's mind. Then he had to think about an appropriate explanation for when Cuddy would have asked him about the new style of her daughter's supplies, and he had to run to his bedroom the sooner he could and get dressed. No matter how stupid it might appear, no matter that was his place and Cuddy was an intruder, he wasn't at ease being half-naked with her around. Not after a night spent dreaming of her coming from to him on the couch-

He stood up all of sudden, with a quick look he checked on Cuddy and sighed relieved since she didn't see him sneak out of the blanket, then limped quickly to his bedroom. Once there, he tried not to look at his bed. He didn't want to do something stupid such as touching the mattress on which she had slept, or looking for traces of her perfume in the pillows. Instead, he moved to his drawer, fishing a clean t-shirt out of it. He sighed relieved and started to put it on, freezing when he heard Cuddy's voice from the door, cursing his bad luck since she came in right while he had the t-shirt just above his head.

"Can I use some of your milk?"

Feeling odd, House tried to speed up the dressing movements, but nervousness had him fumble more than the necessary. If anything, he managed to cover himself before looking in her direction.

"Yes…if you want to poison her," he muttered picking up his cane and limping toward her. "You can chose, one or two months old milk?"

Cuddy smiled but rolled her eyes, smiling at Rachel who was now giggling in delight looking around the room, curios as kid can be, then nodded toward the bathroom.

"Mind to tell me why there's a dirty diaper in your tub?"

On his way to the bathroom House froze and stopped, he gulped down and looked up at the ceiling rolling his eyes… Damn, he had forgotten about the diaper! He turned toward Cuddy, who was watching him with a small smile. Apparently, the idea of him facing a crap emergency during the night amused her a lot, then she walked to his bed and put down Rachel, removing the blanket around her. The kid giggled as her mom tickled her cheeks, then picked her up showing House his own t-shirt/tape artwork. House bit at his bottom lip, nervous all of sudden, even more since the most rational part of his brain was telling him he had no reason to. He hadn't done anything wrong: he had helped, he had sorted himself out of that quite nicely, and the only harmed one there had been his precious t-shirt. Then why was he feeling unmasked, vulnerable and almost naked, facing the evidence of what he had done?

_Because you're being nice,_ a voice mocked him inside his head. _You're being nice with the brat, despite you convinced yourself you hate her. And you don't want Cuddy to see it._

True, probably, one way or the other. Then why didn't he want Cuddy to see it? Why was he trying to hide it? Cuddy knew him better than anybody else, better than Wilson and his own mother, more likely better than himself…then why was he ashamed? Why was he afraid?

_Because you're afraid it might work,_ the voice revealed again. _You're afraid your niceness will open you the door you thought closed when she got the kid…and you're so twisted that you're afraid she might think you're just trying to impress her and get something back_

He hated that, talking with himself. It can be a real curse when you're always right!

But before arguing with himself, he had to take care of something else. Cuddy's gloating face acknowledging what he had done during the night was a though challenge… After all, he thought, he didn't need to step back: he had done nothing wrong, and he hadn't thought she could have failed to notice there was a Led Zeppelin t-shirt wrapped around her daughter's ass.

"That's an 85$ original t-shirt of last LZ concert, just so you know," he stated boldly. "And I want it back. Safe, clean and smelling like roses."

"I'll add it to the 100$ of the shirt," she muttered with a smile, wrapping Rachel back on the blanket. "And to the one for the cab."

House frowned and looked at her, puzzled, struggling to catch the meaning of her words. Then, slowly, the whole picture started to shape in his mind. According to her plan, they had to drive to her place with her car and she needed him for that, and once there she would have paid his cab to take him back home-

"To the hospital," Cuddy stated, breaking the flow of his thoughts as she passed by him with Rachel in her arms. "The cab will take you to the hospital, if you stop back home you'll be late. Get ready."

That said she left the room, House's eyes widening in terror as he watched her walk away holding Rachel, who was poking from above her shoulder waving her little hand to him and babbling ga. Cuddy seemed to ignore it or didn't bother, she was probably too satisfied of her exit line to care, and once he was alone in his bedroom House had to fight back the desire to go after her and smash his cane on her head. Oh she had some guts! She burst in his place in the middle of the night with a crying kid, one he have had to take care of; she had woke him up at dawn, she dared to unmask him and had him be her chaperon again, and now she even wanted him to be at work on time?

But apparently his body didn't find it outrageous as much as his brain, because once he had done wining he started to get dressed.

_You're such a wuss!_ His own voice accused him disappointed when he looked at himself in the mirror, before joining Cuddy in the living room. Silent, sensing by the nervousness on Cuddy's eyes how eager she was to go home and give Rachel an appropriate breakfast and clothes, House quickly picked up his keys and the leather jacket and they went outside. He took the lead to the main door, but then stopped her. Cuddy watched him go back inside and come out of his apartment with an umbrella, which probably had the same age of his guitar, and handling it to her before they stepped outside in the rain. She fumbled but managed to open the umbrella with one hand, keeping the other one on Rachel, not at all surprised when House didn't offer one extra hand. She knew she had pushed it a little too far, she also knew he had easily understood she needed to get home somehow, and she wasn't disappointed by his lack of chivalry in that circumstance. He stepped outside in the rain as he was, but Cuddy had to call him back when she saw him heading to the passenger seat.

"What?" He shoot, too grumpy even for himself.

"You better drive," she offered with a soft voice, nodding down at the car keys she had previously taken out of her pocket. "I don't have my license…and in case this t-shirt isn't pee proof, I'd rather avoid adding you pants to my laundry bill."

He tried not to but he had to smile, sealing their truce: all seemed to be done with those words, no need to force the other into struggling apologies, no need to put each other in awkward situation again, no need to keep remember what they had or hadn't done. That was why, however silent, their drive to Cuddy's place flew by with no problem. Rachel kept babbling all the way, and House pretending to ignore her to focus on the street. Once they got to Cuddy's place, the three of them got inside wrapped in a peaceful silence. Cuddy offered him the phone and he called himself a cab, not even trying to push back her offer of the money; it wasn't a big deal and a refusal would have done nothing but break the truce. Then he waited for the cab in the kitchen, while Cuddy took care of Rachel and, he hoped, of his t-shirt too.

When Cuddy came back from the nursery, she spotted the cab waiting outside, House looked at her trying to beg her for a delay concession, but she shook her head no and jokingly pointed at the door to tell him he had to go to work. He rolled his eyes and stood up from the chair, muttering she was really an evil cunning woman, but headed to the door followed by her. Cuddy opened the door to him and watched him step outside, but before he could go too far she found the guts to speak.

"For tonight…for last night," she said, then paused waiting for him to look back at her, hoping, and smiling when he did so. "Thanks," she added then once their eyes locked. He nodded and gave his back to her, missing the broad teasing grin appearing on her face. "See you at the hospital…Ga."


	15. Chapter 15

_One more for you, and then Merry Christmas to everybody!_

* * *

><p>15<p>

_Ok, just get in there, sign in and then straight to your office. They'll say good morning, they'll try to stop you…just say goodbye back, smile if you can, and then work. Nothing but work, focused on work for the rest of the day, ok?_

It indeed sounded like a plan, a good plan: simple, straight, efficient…too bad she didn't believe she could make it. She had Rachel with her, who was a magnet for everybody, how she seemed to grow up every day more, how cute her dress was. Above all, however, work didn't seem the most important thing in her life. Not that day, not after that night and the previous three days, in which House had more or less threw in the toilet and flushed away every fear and doubt she have had about being someone reliable with a kid.

Standing outside PPTH main entrance with Rachel's crib in her hand, Cuddy took a deep breath fighting back her own questions, then stepped inside and headed to the acceptation desk, hoping her face was greeting as usual. She approached the desk and put the crib on top of it, stretching her hand toward the file Jenny was handling her.

"Good morning Dr. Cuddy. Aw, how can Rachel looks bigger day after day!" She squealed then poking with her face on Rachel's crib.

_Here we go,_ Cuddy thought scribbling her name on the registration form, clenching her jaw slightly when the nurse stood up and stretched her hand to tickle Rachel's cheek, making weird sounds. Wondering why everybody always felt the need to babble incoherent words to children, Cuddy kept up her friendly mom's face and smiled at the nurse. A smile that became a nervous grimace when other nurses approached her daughter, like vultures around a dead animal. Before she knew it, Cuddy found her daughter surrounded but cheerful nurses. She tried to maneuver in between them to get to Rachel, but all she could do was spot the poor kid face, her eyes darting the unfamiliar faces. The dean of medicine bit at her bottom lip, she didn't need to see her daughter's grimace to feel her discomfort, but she was struggling to dive across the human ocean and get to her rescue.

"Wait, I know this one!"

Everybody, Cuddy included, froze when House's voice came from the entrance, clear and loud, delicate as a steamroller can be. The bunch of nurses turned around to look at him, slowly limping inside with a cup of coffee in his hand. Cuddy knew him well enough to be sure the evil grin he was trying so desperately to fight back masked his twisted pride of being the object of everybody's attention and hate, and fought back her own smile knowing the best was yet to come.

Walking slowly, House darted the nurse's faces. They were all glaring at him ,thinking how could someone being always insensitive, even with a kid around, then he flashed them all with a smirk and pointed at them with the cane, frowning as if he was trying to remember.

"That's _The jungle book_ right?" He asked, mockingly. "Mowgli," he pointed at Rachel and the nurses rolled their eyes, in an impressive coördinate movement, then he moved the cane to them. "And the vultures!" He stated, cheerfully as if he had just answered the 1 million dollar question, then he frowned curios at Cuddy. "Not sure who Sheer-Kan will eat alive-"

Cuddy was about to answer something, but then to her major surprise House's words did the magic she wanted, and the nurses dispersed like leaves in the wind as he approached the desk. Ignoring her, House rested his hands on the desk waiting for Jenny to handle him the sign in book, which she did by slamming it on the tips of his fingers. Resolute not to give her any satisfaction, House ignored the pain and didn't react. He simply picked up chart and pen, hoping Cuddy senior could stop staring at him, and Cuddy junior could keep her mouth shut and stop screaming ga.

Cuddy knew her gaze made him unease, but she couldn't help but stare at him and at the way Rachel was simply excited he was there. The little girl was trying to sneak out of the seat, frantically trying to reach for House. He stubbornly ignored her despite she was, as now Cuddy knew, calling him. In a perfect world, he would have probably at least looked over at Rachel, maybe even smiled. In a perfect world, none of them would have acted like the night before and the previous one too never happened: in a half perfect world, she could thank him for doing the dirty job for her and get rid of the flock of nurses, and he wouldn't have deflect. Nevertheless, that wasn't a perfect world, she didn't expect him to be nice to Rachel in a blunt way, not with witnesses around, and she was pissed she couldn't thank him in a straight a simple way, leaving banter, jokes and subtext out of the picture.

"Always nice, aren't you?" She said then while picking up Rachel's crib.

"Every time I act nice, people think I'm either crazy or sick," he stated throwing the form to Jenny and showing the messages in his pocket, then huffed annoyed. "Just trying to reassure everybody, I'm fine."

That said, House walked away heading toward the elevators showing to Cuddy's attentive eyes he was not fine, not at least as much as he was trying to pretend. His limp was heavy, and she didn't fail to notice how he massaged the lower part of his back and stirred, trying to ease the discomfort the night spent on the couch had given him. Fighting back guilt, Cuddy bit at her bottom lip and watched him swallow one of his pills before heading to her office. She did know he used to sleep on his couch sometimes, and she knew he could sleep almost everywhere. That was why she had to ask herself how much her nightly raid, and the consequent fall out, had affected him for real.

It wasn't just about the pain, she told to herself while heading toward the privacy of her office. She didn't think it was that bad and he didn't think it either. However, much as everybody else, House was jealous of his private spaces. His apartment was his world, and her irruption had shaken him in so many ways. She smiled to herself as he entered her office and turned the lights on, placing Rachel's crib on the coffee table, and thinking it made two of them after all. He had been to her place a couple of nights before, for dinner, a dinner to which he had invited himself with no shame-

_Oh shut up, you liar!_ Her voice screamed to her as she looked down at Rachel, who smiled at her mom. _He didn't invite himself. He was trying to help and make it look like he wasn't, because he knew you wouldn't have accepted._

A light wave of pain filled her heart when she thought so, she tried to ease it by taking Rachel's hands and play with her, but she couldn't ignore it…Why couldn't they have a simple, straight and blunt interaction? Why did they always need to banter and deflect, to say and show the opposite of what they thought and felt? She had indeed needed help in the parking, House had happened to be the one passing by and she had spent a whole sleepless night asking herself what would have she done if someone else had stopped by to offer her some help. But it had been him, and she had been stubborn for no reason, she had engaged him as they always did because…

Because that was what they did, always, every time. No matter if it was about a patient, a prank gone wild, adoption or a dirty shirt. She had tried, sometime, to convince herself there was more between them, that skirmish and mocking were not the only way to communicate they have. However, every time one of them tried the human way, every time one of them offered the other something normal, they were assaulted by the insane fear of being unable to control events. Even that morning, despite the silent agreement they've found, had proved that once again. As she took of her coat and sat down on the couch, she thought back at when she had gone to his bedroom, finding still half-shirtless to her shameless delight. Something inside her had melted, when she had understood he had taken care of Rachel without waking her up, by seeing his t-shirt around her. Smiling to herself, Cuddy picked up Rachel and held her up, her mind picturing House's rock garment around her as it had been in the early morning, sighing as she remembered the wave of panic on his face when she had unmasked him. Why had he been ashamed? Why that touch of redness on his cheek under the stubble?

Lost in her own mind, Cuddy was brought back to reality by her daughter, who had started to pat her face with her tiny open palms as if she was looking for something. She smiled at the curios kid, she was always looking for new experience, but in that moment she soon realized by the puzzled look in Rachel's eyes she wasn't expecting to find her cheeks so smooth and soft.

"Ga?" Rachel asked then, as to confirm Cuddy's speculation.

"Not now Rachel," she whispered taking one of her hand to give it a quick kiss, making her giggle. "Ga's gotta work."

Appalled, Cuddy frowned when she saw her daughter pout disappointed as if she could really be mad at her because Ga had to work. And she frowned even more when she thought that after all, yes, it was indeed her fault if he had to. Smiling at her daughter and bouncing her on her knees, Cuddy wondered for the first time what might have happened in the previous days, every time they had been alone. Whatever it was, it couldn't be bad. Rachel had done nothing but babbling Ga, and she wasn't shy in showing her affection for House. He might not consider himself as father material, although she couldn't really say they've had the chance to talk about that…but he was not the insensitive ogre he thought he was. That she knew for sure, because of Rachel scratching away the first layer of grumpiness.

"What do you think Rachel? Maybe we can find a way to thank Ga, without have him running away?"

She said then tickling her daughter's belly, then sighed at her watch that told her it was time to work. Still, she took one more minute to stare at her daughter, hoping for a second she could stay like that forever, then smiled again. Rachel looked up at her mom, nodding in a confused yet steady way.

"Ga!" She cried cheerfully clapping her hands. "Ha ha Ga!"

"Ok then, we agree."

That said, Cuddy went to her desk and sat down then switched on the computer. As she waited for it to be completely operative, she looked around on her desk, at her agenda open on that Thursday morning page with her appointments, at the bunch of her patient's file she had to check and update, at the departments requests for money and equipment. Then her eyes switched to the nurse's schedule that needed to be re-organized, and the documents she was supposed to read before her lunch meeting, then finally looked back at the screen of her computer and at the small pop-up window warning her there were 23 new unread emails for her.

Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and focused, then called Jenny on the phone and asked her for a cup of tea, before rolling up her sleeves. She could do that: it was her job, it was a walk in the park. She could deal the administrative nightmare her job was, and still feel a real doctor, a woman and a mother by the end of the day.

On the other hand, having House let her thank him wouldn't have been that easy.


	16. Chapter 16

16

"C'mon Rachel, what's wrong?" Cuddy asked for the hundredth time to her daughter, desperately crying in her arms. "Please sweetie, calm down."

But she didn't. Cuddy couldn't tell how many miles she had walked, pacing her home up and down, lulling and bouncing Rachel to stop her heartbreaking cry. She was tired, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her day had been a living hell, she had successfully swum through her duties with the usual ability, but she hadn't had time to take care of the only thing she really cared about.

Her strategy to thank House.

She haven't had the chance to see him either, suck in the vortex of her occupations as dean of medicine. She had spent the whole day running in and out her office, granting Rachel with quick and fugitive attention any time she could.

Every time someone had stepped ins her office, Cuddy had hoped it was a tall limping man. Every time Rachel had been fussing, she had wished House could be there. Every time Ga had echoed in her office, she had found herself biting her bottom lip…she could so understand her daughter!

Nevertheless, the day had gone by without him. House had been busy with his patient, however not enough to need to come to her office and ask for something,

She might have been naïve, but she dared to think he hadn't tried to avoid her. They've clarified, they were ok. Their interaction took the blink of an eye to get the knifes out and try to kill each other over nothing but, in the same way, they needed a simple word or even just a nod to get over everything. No, he hadn't try to avoid her; Cuddy was sure of that, and she needed to find a way to tell him what he had done for Rachel was simple for anybody else, but special for him.

But she also needed to silence Rachel before she could drive her nuts.

"Ok sweetie, ok," she said cheerfully heading toward Rachel's room, bending on the toy's box in the corner, "Let's play ok? What do you want?" She picked up a small ball and waved it in front of Rachel's face, who kept her eyes shut and kept crying. "Ok then, what about Teddy? Yes!" She muttered showing her the Teddy bear, invaded by a sudden joy when it seemed to sort some effect. However, after a first glimpse of attention, Rachel turned back and hid her face in her shoulder. "No, no Teddy I guess."

Exasperated, Cuddy placed Rachel on the playing carpet and spread some of her favorite toys around her, then sat with her on the ground and offered them one after the other, feeling like a poor indigene trying to please the God. Nothing seemed to work; not enough colored, not enough noisy, not enough soft or curios.

Nothing seemed to be as fun and fulfilling as the taka she kept asking for.

* * *

><p>"Did you swallow an alarm or something?" Wilson greeted him as soon as House entered his office, hitting the clock for lunchtime with no mercy.<p>

"I've been told I have Peter Pan syndrome and I'm an asshole like Captain Hook," House stated keeping the door open. "I can't cover all the characters."

"You know," Wilson huffed as he stood up and took the wallet. "I'm glad we've reached this deep level of communication, you don't even need to say "buy me lunch" anymore."

"That's because you're a smart guy," House tried to flatter him, following his friend in the hallway.

"Funny, and here I thought I was just the one with the full wallet and no spine." They both chuckled as he entered the elevator. "So, I've heard you managed to break yet another marriage."

"I don't break marriages." He clarified annoyed. "Married people do, I just bring the truth to light."

"Yeah, my bad," the oncologist muttered as they stepped outside "Sometimes I forget your crusade against lies."

They went on sharing their views over marriages and lies. House was truly amazed by how his friend seemed to still believe in marriages, despite losing three in a row, and Wilson on the other hand was quite impressed by House's care for truth… when it came to someone else.

"You assume marriages are designed to end badly because you refuse commitment," the oncologist stated as they sat down at the table, facing each other. "Any kind of commitment. You couldn't manage taking care of a goldfish. Since nothing works for you, you think when it seems to work for someone else it must be a fraud."

"People want other people around to fill their gaps," House huffed, annoyed he had to repeat yet once again his theories.

"And even if it's true," Wilson muttered in a low voice waving his fork in the air "What's wrong with that?"

Chewing the bite of steak, House followed the direction indicated by his friend, gulping down the piece of meat and almost chocking with it when he saw what Wilson was pointing at. In the corner of the crowded cafeteria, Cuddy was sitting alone at one table; alone except for Rachel on her lap, fussing in her arms. Despite the clear discomfort of her daughter, something that would have probably ended up giving her a stain of food on her nice bold bright orange shirt and skip her own lunch, House could see the smile on her face. That bitter sweet grin mothers are probably genetically provided with, when they need to sum up in just one expression the love for their creature and the knowledge of a small piece of their life being taken away forever.

_Nothing's wrong,_ he thought. _If that's what you're looking for._

With a last gulp, House swallowed the rest of the meat and froze when he felt the corner of his lips turn upwards in an uncontrolled smile, and he tried to hide it with the can of soda. God blessed him, he had missed that wining the day before. He had missed the way Cuddy smiled at him when she caught him off guard…damn, he almost wanted to be caught off guard by her, and now that he knew he didn't need to be worried for what she might think of him. House felt his gaze locked on Cuddy and her daughter, both sitting a bunch of meters away from him, and he soon realized he had to get a grip and come back to his normal behave before it was too late.

"So," he huffed then looking over at Wilson, a shiver running down his spine when he noticed the intrigued and curios expression on his friend's face. "Care to tell me something about this new red haired nurse chasing after you?"

"There is…there is no new red haired nurse-"

"Then it must be an old one, big deal!" House shrugged, then took the Vicodin bottle out of his pocket and pointed at him. "But there's a nurse, I can tell. Your face is more or less the same colour of this-"

"Taka!"

House froze, his hand around the orange bottle stopped all of sudden. Gulping, not caring about hiding whatever emotions might had been on his face, he slowly turned his head to his left, biting at his bottom lip.

"Ga! Taka, taka, taka!"

Rachel was inches away from his face, her small face lighten up like a Christmas tree as she frantically moved out of control in Cuddy's arms, yelping and laughing and repeating his name and taka as a broken record. Sitting in front of him, Wilson at first smiled at that scene; he had no clue what was behind that, but it was clear Rachel was happy to see House and she wasn't shy in showing it. Then he noticed something was wrong. He didn't actually expect House to smile and greet the kid, hard to think his friend could do something nice for Cuddy's kid, to any kid for that mattered. However, the terrified expression on House's face was hard to read, much as Cuddy's mask. It was mainly surprise, but rage and hate were in the mix as well. And there was more; disgust, scorn and a light trace of tears. Just a hint, only a veil of wetness in her grey-blue eyes, open wide on House.

There was a small trembling movement on her sealed lips as she looked down at House, as if there was nobody else around them in the crowded and noisy room. Without saying a word, Cuddy kept holding Rachel firmly with one arm, rigid as a statue. She stretched one arm toward House and took the bottle of Vicodin from his hand. He didn't try to stop her, he felt himself under a spell and he couldn't move, maybe because of his brain telling him there was nothing he could have done. His fingers let go the plastic bottle and Cuddy took it, and waited in the air when she shook the bottle a couple of times in front of Rachel's eyes, keeping hers locked on House. He felt guilt, shame and desperation weight on his shoulders, feeling like a man buried alive listening to the last nail hammered in the coffin when Rachel stretched her arms toward the bottle in Cuddy's hands.

"Taka, Ga! Taka, taka!"

He didn't want to look at her, but he found himself unable to avert his eyes. Somehow, he managed to hold it together when she slowly placed the bottle on the table. Cuddy bit at her bottom lip and kept her teeth sunk in there, fighting back the wave of tears and pain. Then she blinked, just once, she took a deep breath and all of sudden Lisa Cuddy, the fierce and strong dean of medicine was one thing with the caring and responsible mom.

"Stay away from her," she hissed in between her teeth. "Stay away from us."


End file.
